Lavender Light
by waystatus
Summary: Reala was the leader of the Nightmaren army. Lydia is a human girl who manages to unknowingly anchor him to our dimension. They're forced to work together in order to put things back into balance despite mutual hatred. But elsewhere, a power-hungry Mantle named Jackle decides to take his master's place and rip the universe apart. Only they can fuel the Light to stop him.
1. Rebirth

**Hello everyone! Welcome to my first NiGHTS fanfic, and second fanfic to ever be published on this site. I've had the idea for this story for a long time, and it grows a little every day. I decided to start writing it because I LOVE writing stories. My laptop crashed, and I was too stupid to remember to back up my We Will Always Be Enemies files. I've been itching to finish the next chapter and update the story. It's like halfway done. But..I can't finish the story when my computer won't even start up. So if you're one of the people who's reading that story, I promise I haven't given up on it. I don't know when I'll update again because my computer might be down for a while. But in the meantime, I decided to make this story using my family's computer. I actually made a vow to myself that I would wait to finish one story at a time instead of having a bunch of side projects when I created my account. But I didn't want to go so long without writing, and my ideas for this story are relatively strong even though my NiGHTS/Reala obsession only happened a few months ago.**

**Yes, the main character in this story is an OC. At first I was going to make it a NiGHTS and Reala story...but I couldn't really get into the whole concept. I mean since Reala is commonly accepted to be more masculine, yet NiGHTS we don't really know, I wasn't sure how to write a story that starred just the two of them. Do I make them siblings? Lovers? Friends? Rivals? And then I thought, maybe I should have all the adventure and drama tied together with a human Dreamer, Aka an OC. After all, I would be able to get into it more. I don't know why, but I have this thing with tying humans in with non-human things. It makes it more relatable for me, and hopefully for the reader. It's easier to imagine what they're feeling since we are all humans, ya know? Unless you're a banana or something. Then I can't help you.**

**This might sound weird, but I had already planned on making a NiGHTS story for a while. But after I heard this song called Rebirthing by the ever so wonderful Skillet, all the ideas suddenly flooded to me. Now, it's become one of my favorite songs, and everytime I hear it, I think about ****_this_****.**

**In this story, NiGHTS is called a he, Jackle is called a he, and Reala is called a he. Please do not take the time to review just to tell me they're all androgynous. I KNOW THEY ARE. For some reason when I look at NiGHTS, neither boy nor girl come to mind. I just think...NiGHTS. I do not think of a gender right off the bat. So instead of making it a girl and having Reala be the opposite sex, I made them both like brothers, and Jackle's crazy laughs from NiD are too boyish for me to call him a girl. So that's that.**

**Please, if it bothers you then don't read. Find another NiGHTSxReala story and be on your way.**

**That said, I hope you find this story interesting. I'm really putting time and effort into this, and will update whenever possible. Please review if you have the time.**

**Oh and quick side note-Do do doooooo...do do dooooo = NiGHTS' flute music.**

**WARNING: This story is rated T because it will be discussing a subject that some people have a sensitivity to, and that is child abuse. Yes, I am against abuse in any shape or form, and no I am not throwing it into the story to glamorize it and use it simply for dramatic effect. This story is meant to teach us all a powerful message; something some of us may already know, but a higher percentage have overlooked. What that message is, is completely open-ended. You can decipher it yourself because it may come to you differently than it will to others.**

**If even the mentioning of abuse upsets you, I highly recommend you don't read this story. If you wish to proceed, thank you for your toleration and I hope you enjoy.**

**I do not own NiGHTS or any of the associated characters. But I do own Lydia and all the other OC's in this story.**

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><p><em>When you come to the edge of all the light you know<em>

_and are about to step into the darkness of the unknown._

_Faith is knowing that one of two things will happen._

_There will be solid ground to stand on_

_or you will be taught to fly._

_-Author Unknown_

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><p><em>Lavender Light<em>

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><p>"Hoooo," Owl sighed sadly, right as he dropped his stubby talons down onto his perch, and leveled himself still. His large head dipped downward, his feathers fanning out like unruly leaves, and his beady black eyes slowly scanning left and right. The aging bird tucked his faded honey-colored wings underneath themselves and looked up completely. He began examining the Dream Gate and all of its tranquil surroundings.<p>

There was that water fountain, in all its divine and unnaturally pleasant beauty, spewing cyan-tinted water that pooled around the circular, silver-laced edges, in the center of the garden-esque environment that made up the entrance to the Dream World.

There were the enormous trees that stretched on up for endless miles until they nearly scraped the navy splashed skies. The thick, tangled branches, sinking their shadings across the world like overlapping vessels of shadowed blood

But tonight, just as it had been many previous nights, the Dream Gate did not appear as serene or beautiful as it had been before...when Owl had the company of a certain mischievous dream jester.

Owl sighed again, closing his eyes slowly and dropping his head further down, but not far enough for his loose spectacles to topple off.

"Oh, NiGHTS," he cooed, feeling a faint, burning ache as the name swam through his eardrums. His brain registered it as something painful. A sad memory that made his spirit throb.

Through all the frustrating times and frequent disrespect, Owl couldn't deny that he had indeed grown an attachment to NiGHTS, as many other people did, and loved him as if he was his own child.

Who was NiGHTS? Why, he was a mysterious, playfully childish creature that had been alongside Owl at the Dream Gate ever since he betrayed the Nightmaren Army. He was neither a boy, nor a girl, for the creatures of his kind were genderless. Though Owl saw him more as a son amongst other things.

Explaining the kind of entity that was NiGHTS to another person was almost impossible. Even though it had already been clarified that NiGHTS was a being known as a _Nightmaren_, it was still a mystery as to where it was he came from exactly.

His personality, his immortal soul...he was practically the essence of dreams themselves. An essence of all the magic and luminescence ever to grace a breath in the infinite universe, all bottled inside one little limber purple body.

Master Wizeman was the one to create him from scratch...and how something so evil could make such a magnificent miracle was beyond Owl.

He wondered to himself, where had the presence of his energy been before his body ever came to light? Was it hanging in a limbo between worlds, neither dead nor living? And what created that magic in the first place? It had to have come from somewhere. And what did it consist of? What was he made of? That's what really picked at Owl's brain.

That aside, the important thing was NiGHTS had always been an amazing person in general, but more-so a trustworthy friend and of course a reigning hero. He was courageous, comical, and even selfless at times. He was incredibly immature like a small child refusing to grow up, and yet held determination like no other.

Currently, Owl had a small, yet growing issue that blossomed after he was bestowed with the responsibility of watching over the Dream Gate on his own. He couldn't help but notice the dreamers who currently visited the Night Dimension never grinned or giggled the way they had when NiGHTS was around. He never saw those shining smiles, or that unique sparkle in their eyes. There seemed to be less color and warmth about them. As if, whatever caused said attributes to drain simply couldn't be replenished.

Owl still played his part. He greeted them all at the entrance of the Dream Gate just as they mounted into the world that divided from their own. He played it off as if nothing was different, gave them more information about their Dream Worlds and the do's and don't's, and how they must steer clear of the Dark Ocean, whose black waves lapped at the bottom of the cliffs, if they valued their young, untainted souls.

Even though all the Dreamers were safe from harm, something was still missing. There was no playful purple jester here to meet them, to dualize with them, and then soar off into whatever wondrous adventure they could concoct together. Whether it was soaring through bubbled rings, collecting links of golden stars and shiny blue marbles, or maneuvering through depths of water, through sugar scented snowflakes, or directly up into space, towards the kaleidoscope colored stars.

Even the absence of threats and danger was becoming a bit of a bore. When it had still lingered about, NiGHTS made it his priority to end it before it got out of hand, and even though mishaps and mistakes ensued, it always turned out well in the end.

Now it was a much more depressing atmosphere.

Owl repeatedly tried the best he could to make all the Visitors be just as happy as they'd been before. He tried guiding them through Nightopia, introducing them to the dwelling Nightopians in hopes that they would find interest in them, and told them about all the many activities they could do whilst in their respective worlds. Heck, he even took drastic measures and attempted cracking the worlds corniest jokes in order to lighten the mood when Visitors went exploring. But Owl was obviously no comedian. His humor was stale. He failed to even get a small lip curl from the children... just about every single time. Maybe it had something to do with the generation gap.

But no. The answer was clear as day. Without NiGHTS, nothing went as it was supposed to. All the children who came to Nightopia never, ever broke free of their outer shells. All of them awoke at the end of their dreams feeling the exact same way they had when they first fell asleep, having made no improvement in their mind or spirit whatsoever, and still struggling against the same barriers from before. They were still glum, angry, bored, and troubled with their lives, as well as reality and now also with what Nightopia had to offer. Their heart and its contents had not made even the smallest bit of a difference, and their aspirations failed to come to light. It was as if they had never shown up there to begin with, like it never happened. Nightopia had no impact on them at all. That was definitely not how it used to be. And that wasn't their fault. Owl felt it was he who bore the blame.

_But it doesn't make sense ..._Owl thought to himself_. It's true...It's not the children's fault that they can't have any fun here. But it certainly isn't my fault either! Nightopia is supposed to be a heavenly paradise! How could one possibly be so unintrigued by it? How can they treat it as if it's nothing?_

_To my knowledge, Nightopia is far more interesting than what the Waking World has to offer. The opportunities are endless! There are very few restrictions. The entire Dream Universe is colorful and vibrant, leaving nothing to the imagination yet everything at the same time. The bland world that humans reside in is the exact opposite. It doesn't add up at all._

But alas, that's exactly the kind of effect NiGHTS had on all the children he encountered. He was what made dreaming an activity of leisure. He was the one who made Nightopia seem especially beautiful and magical; he made it all an unforgettable experience, unless the children lost the memories of their dreams after awakening, that is. And that was happening more frequently now than ever before.

Lacking NiGHTS had left Nightopia with a serious blow to the core. It just wasn't the same without him.

Owl grimaced as the memories phased him. He remembered waiting on the same perch he was resting on now for NiGHTS' return...after he'd been whisked away by that horrible, evil Lord of Nightmare. Master Wizeman.

He remembered witnessing the horror as it unfolded right before his very own glassed eyes. Wizeman, NiGHTS' despicable and ruthless creator, had taken him away. He had never intended on destroying the little dream jester, but instead wished to replace NiGHTS' soul with another. A disciplined, more obedient one of course. One who would follow his orders. Owl couldn't even comprehend the thought of another cold, cruel spirit being in NiGHTS' place and dancing the puppet dance for the ruler of Nightmare.

Owl had known in his heart that the war had officially begun, and it would also come to a dramatic end, all in a matter of one night. Wizeman...vs. NiGHTS. The only thing the aged bird could do was wait for the results of whomever's victory, silently praying that NiGHTS would end it with being the one victorious, for the sake of the Dreaming World, and for the sake of the Visitors, their ideya, and their dreams.

But as days passed, and NiGHTS had yet to return to the Dream Gate, Owl slowly loosened his grasp on hope.

Just thinking about losing NiGHTS used to make his stomach churn. But now, he didn't need to imagine life without NiGHTS. He was already living it. It left him feeling empty. And it had been that way every night for months now. Owl was lonely. He missed the jester's voice, his frolicking, and his company altogether.

Owl then stopped midway through sulking. He remembered that as impossible as it seemed, there was some good in this outcome.

At first, Owl assumed Wizeman was the one to have destroyed NiGHTS. But then he noticed that after a while, not only NiGHTS...but all of the Nightmaren had seemingly disappeared. There was not a single sign of their hideous faces (not counting NiGHTS) anywhere in sight.

In fact, Owl no longer needed to warn Visitors about how dangerous the Nightmaren around here were, since they always failed to show up. The Visitors' Ideya was always safely kept within them, untouched and unharmed, because there were no longer any Nightmaren around to snatch it from them. And even more importantly, these days Nightopia was _never_ in danger. Nightmare seemed to have given up on taking it over.

And that could only mean one thing...

It meant that Nightmare no longer existed. After all, Nightmare would never willingly give up its hunger for control.

NiGHTS had in fact won. He succeeded in defeating Master Wizeman. Because to destroy the Lord of Nightmare, was to destroy everything he'd created as well...including the hero himself.

Owl still found it heart-wrenching and difficult to picture NiGHTS disappearing forever. Even thinking on the subject now made his eyes glisten over with cold tears.

He was extremely proud of NiGHTS indeed. He succeeded in what it was he was trying to accomplish from the very beginning. He fought against his own reason for existence, which was robbing Dreamers of their dear Ideya, because he knew in his heart that it was wrong. He managed to end all the evil and bring Nightopia back into eternal peace and bliss, sacrificing himself in the process. It was the most heroic, noble thing Owl had ever seen anyone do...ever.

But he still couldn't help but miss him dreadfully.

He sniffled quietly as two streams of tears spilled over onto his cheeks, matting his feathers together. As more tears ensued, the lens of Owl's glasses became covered in the watery substance. Though his tears were clear, they left messy splatters in their wake, melting Owl's sight into a multitude of nightly colors. He paused and noted the minor annoyance.

"O-Oh my," he stammered, his voice cracking slightly from the tightness in his throat. "How bothersome. I really must get a hold of myself."

But right before Owl could make another comment to himself, he heard it.

A soft, childish song.

_Do do doooooo...Do do dooooooooooo_

"...Hm?" Owl pondered, craning his stumpy neck up towards the source of the noise, his golden beak falling open in awe. "What in Nightopia's name...?"

_That music. Was that...? Could it be?_

_No. That's impossible._

Owl wrapped his wings over his head and hooted again. "...Goodness, I must be going mad!" he exclaimed quietly to himself. "I know for certain I'm the only one here! But for a moment, I swear I heard-"

_Do do dooooooo...Do do doooooooooo_

Owl's eyes popped open again. The insides of his glasses were still glazed over with tear droplets. He forced his wings back down, turning his head every which way towards the open skies.

"W-What? Who's there!" he cried out anxiously, fearing that he really was losing his sanity, or that an unknown presence was on the brink of ambushing him. And poor Owl had no means of defense other than panic flapping his wings.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, that had to be it. Someone was there, teasing him, taunting him for kicks. He couldn't have only imagined that sweet lullaby. It sounded far too real. But something like that...it couldn't have been real. It was already mad enough that someone had managed to enter this world without Owl's acknowledgement. But for the original player of the song to be the one producing the music?

Impossible.

There was absolutely no way.

Owl paused again, his eyebrows knitting together.

His blurred vision suddenly focused in on a purple, pink, and yellow blob that was peacefully resting in the center of a dark backdrop. The darkness behind it was the trees. It was propped on one of the branches.

Owl gasped and jutted his head towards the strange blob. The quick movement caused the remaining tears inside his spectacles to slide off and drop down onto his vest, darkening the areas where they hit. Now his eyes were clear, minus the subject of his sight being framed by excess sprinkles of salted H2O.

What he saw stunned him completely. The old bird forgot how to intake oxygen.

There he was...

There...was NiGHTS...

He was doing that strange invisible flute thing with his hands, just as he had all the time when he rested at the Dream Gate awaiting the new Visitors.

It was as if he had never been gone.

NiGHTS lowered his brown hued fingers away from his mouth, uncurling them in the process. The little tune he'd been playing on his unseen instrument instantly froze into dead silence. He opened his enormous eyes and turned his head towards the elderly bird, smiling appreciatively.

His body dropped off the branch and he slowly glided down to Owl's level. Grains of glittering Twinkle Dust soared gracefully from his hands as he neared the ground. His dark blue eyes shined with a deep and beautiful aura.

"Why, hello there, Owl," he greeted gently, tilting his head slightly to the right. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

His voice still had that familiar warm echo about it, acting as a mirror to every word he spoke.

Owl only gawked back at him. His beak trembled, the whites of his eyes enlarging in size as he desperately searched for the right words to utter. But it was like he'd forgotten how to speak English. There was a tornado of questions crashing through his head.

Somehow, NiGHTS looked completely different than from when Owl had last seen him.

Yes, Owl was old and his memory was faint, but he could never forget something as essential as what NiGHTS' general appearance was. And something about the way he looked now seemed incredibly off, yet suiting at the same time. The jester was adorned with a much more simply patterned clothing compared to his previous attire, while still maintaining the same color scheme and style. His gloves weren't present, leaving his light brown hands bare, and he had a large, circular collar strapped around his non-existent neck. The dark purple stripes on his jesters were slightly darker, and his overall color appeared richer in balance and contrast.

Either NiGHTS hadn't noticed these changes or he simply didn't care or mind them. He only giggled.

"Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay," he said, flying a little closer to him so that they were facing each other dead on. He grinned again, but this time bigger than before.

"It's okay," he repeated. "You're not going mad." His eyes glowed softly with reassurance.

The last thing he wanted was for the old owl, his friend and mentor, to have a heart attack from the shock, or fall into the belief that he had truly gone insane, or that NiGHTS was some sort of imposter playing a sick joke on him. NiGHTS wanted his bird friend to know that it was him, and he was just as real as ever.

"I know it seems hard to believe, but I promise, it's really me," he said, dropping his voice down to a whisper.

"I'm back."

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><p><em>...In a dream<em>, _I can see,_

_You are not far away._

Reala's eyelids quivered uneasily. His body was pulsating with a burning sensation. Even though his mind was pushed back into the dark chambers of unconsciousness, he could physically feel the last of his adrenaline dying, and his strength soaking back into him. And then something else within him triggered itself. He immediately tried to pinpoint what it was, but his mind kept fogging over.

He wasn't entirely sure, but it was almost like a new part of him was awakening. He could feel the source of his breath returning to him, accompanied by a strange, unfolding energy.

_Anytime, any place_,

_I can see your face._

The unknown female voice reverberated quietly in his head, as if bouncing around in a wide corridor. By now, the red and black clad jester had regained control of his five senses, yet strangely enough, his limbs were still paralyzed. Every time he tried to do so much as even slightly budge a muscle, his body would respond with an internal tingling, like hot, grainy powder was being thrashed against the inside of his skin. It didn't hurt. It just felt incredibly odd.

Reala's black lips tightened in a mixture of curiosity and agitation. He realized that he wasn't by himself. Obviously, if he could hear someone's voice, that meant he couldn't be alone. And judging by the voice's smooth octaves, he assumed it belonged to a female.

She was either next to him, or in front of him. He wasn't sure. It was all incredibly hard to decipher with how dizzy he was. In fact, he couldn't even sense her presence at all.

Whoever she was, she was singing to him. Her voice loomed over him like a thin mist. It sounded rather distant.

He couldn't help but wonder...who was this person, and why in the world was she _singing_ to him? Was she another Nightmaren, or a Visitor perhaps? A Visitor...sitting here and mocking the General with her silly show-tunes. Right there he felt like getting up and yanking her vocal chords out of her throat with his bare hand. He hated that someone was making a fool out of him when he was this vulnerable.

How come she wasn't more concerned about him and how he was just laying there practically, if not completely dead? Instead of attempting to help him, she chose to sing.

That's just bloody wonderful.

_You're that special one, that I've been waiting for,_

_And I hope you're looking for someone like me_.

The notes she sang came out genuinely sweet, if not a bit haunting. Once again, Reala struggled to open his eyes. He was pushing against his inner limits, desperately trying to regain control of himself. He didn't want to continue laying there motionless. If anything, he at least wanted to open his eyes long enough to see who was there with him. Even though the voice was foreign and seemingly belonged to a stranger, he had to admit, he found a small bit of comfort in knowing he wasn't alone. It was almost like a reassurance that he was still alive. And at least the woman could carry a tune.

He tried to speak, but his mouth refused to open. His voice came out in a muffled whimper that kept itself hidden in his throat.

The voice didn't react.

_In the nights, dream delight,_

_I want to see you standing there..._

Reala's heart suddenly pounded against his chest. His mind clicked at the notes of the mysterious melody as they poured on. The realization of where the song originated from hit him like a wrecking ball. He knew it anywhere.

Then suddenly, as if it had never been there, her voice retreated.

_In the nights, dream delight,_

_You are the one..._

Before she could finish the lyrics, her last words cut off and gently echoed through Reala's mind, before dying off into nothing.

Now he really was alone.

After laying there blankly for a few seconds, the surprise finally passed.

That was it. That was the final straw. Reala weakly ground his teeth together, putting up a fight against his own body's instincts. He would never admit defeat. He had to get up.

_'Oh, come on. Get up, you fool!_' he wanted to shout. _'Get up! Get up! GET UP!_'

Surprisingly, his strength flowed back to him all at once. A warm feeling coursed through his veins, weaving its way around him as if granting back his mobility. His eyelids shot open.

Reala instantly jumped up into a sitting position. He blinked his icy blue eyes twice, trying to get rid of the haze in his vision. He felt an ache forming at the back of his head, and pressed his palm against the affected area, rubbing back and forth. Since his sight wasn't sharpened, all he could see was a black and cerulean splatter of nothingness laid out around him. He gazed out at it in puzzlement, bringing his hand back around to the side of his face, out of view, and gently brushing it across his persona to make sure it was still there. Once his fingers met the golden fibers, he pulled his arm away, getting a little peace at mind in knowing it was still on his face where it belonged.

Once his eyes managed to blink into a clear view, he glanced around frantically in every direction, searching for any sort of indicator as to where he was, and what in the world was happening. Nothing was offering an explanation.

But then the warmth in his body quickly faded away and was replaced by an uncertain chill. A shiver ran down his spine.

After looking closer at everything around him, Reala couldn't help but become gravely silent with worry. There was no other way to put it. He really was surrounded by nothingness. There was not a single, solid form in his line of sight. There was no movement whatsoever. All he saw was a giant mess of dark, dank colors formatted as his surroundings. They all collided and morphed together, creating an endless abyss that swirled so slowly, it didn't appear to be moving at all.

Then something in Reala's mind clicked. His bum felt like it was pressed against something flat, and that must've meant he was on ground. He immediately turned over to look underneath him, but to his dismay, saw that there was in fact no ground. He was hovering.

It wasn't him doing it either. There was an invisible force down below, a current perhaps, that was holding him up and keeping him from falling. But he wasn't bobbing up and down like he would if it really were the air that was supporting him. He was perfectly still, as if sitting on something solid.

"...Where am I..." Reala asked out loud, half expecting an answer even though there was clearly nobody around him. But what about the girl who had been singing that song? How could she have just disappeared into thin air? Was it just his mind playing tricks on him the whole time?

Then, a deafening chime sounded above him. Reala, already discombobulated enough as it was, jumped slightly and craned his head upwards, peering at the space above.

What he saw made him gasp. It somehow triggered his memories. He instantly remembered everything that led to this point.

Above his head was Bellbridge.

The bells in the clock tower boomed out over the glowing town. It almost sounded like the clappers inside them were lolling around, creating a mesmerizing ring, like a sound produced by angels.

Without warning, millions of pictures painfully surged through Reala's mind, causing him to grab his head again, but this time with both hands. He grunted to himself and squeezed his eyes shut. They played out in flashbacks, or rather frozen images, of what happened to him right before he was knocked out. Him and NiGHTS had been fighting in a long awaited battle. Both of them, one on one. And...NiGHTS managed to beat him, somehow.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn't help but wonder. How could NiGHTS have _won?_ How could he beat him...the leader of the Nightmaren army?

It couldn't have been that he was stronger. Reala's physique was clearly superior over NiGHTS' dainty excuse for a figure. Could it have been...the determination...or simply the will to win? Had the desire to defeat Reala and Master Wizeman actually made NiGHTS to be stronger than he really was?

But that kind of logic didn't make sense in Reala's mind. How could wanting something actually make you physically stronger, more agile, and quicker than that of your opponent? Besides, it's not like Reala didn't have his own ambitions. Nothing in the entire universe would have served him more satisfaction than beating NiGHTS in that battle, or even killing him if it were necessary. He was sure Master Wizeman wouldn't have minded. In fact, he would have been happy that the little unloyal pest was finally out of the picture.

So...how come the determination hadn't worked for him? What kind of adrenaline had NiGHTS felt that apparently he had yet to experience himself?

Reala growled. To him, none of that mattered anyway. He possessed something that NiGHTS never even considered having, and that was, low and behold, common sense. It was quite simple, really. Anyone would know betraying their creator is a stupid idea. Something like that was begging for the worst kind of trouble. If he had just stayed in Nightmare, served his simple purpose and stole Ideya from Visitors just as all Nightmaren were created to do, he would never have been locked away in those Ideya palaces so many times. He wouldn't have gotten himself into countless messes. He would have never had to face the wrath of Master Wizeman...and regrettably, Reala would not be here, trapped at the bottom of Bellbridge, hardly able to tell up from down. All because of his counterpart's antics.

_Wait just a moment. Where exactly is NiGHTS? What ever happened to those annoying little Visitors? And what became of our Master Wizeman?_

Then out of nowhere, the volume of the clock tower's bells drastically increased. Reala could feel the vibration mounting through him to the center. It beat against him from the inside out.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he sensed something strange. It felt like something was slipping away from him.

He looked down and let out a rough gasp. His body was beginning to slip through the force that had him suspended in the air. His hindquarters, followed by his legs and back were slowly caving in through a gap.

The dense atmosphere started to fully disparate. Reala thrashed himself upward in an attempt to escape the disintegrating ground as he grunted with fury. His flying instincts weren't responding. His whole body refused to obey its own commands. His brain was working, but nothing else was.

_What is going on!_

Before he knew it, Reala had fallen completely through whatever force had once been there, and was now plummeting downward.

"Ah!" Reala shouted. His weakened shrieks pierced the night air like frosted blades. The yellow luminescence of Bellbridge slowly faded away from sight. In fact, the whole world was becoming darker, chillier, and more frightening than it had been previously. It was slowly but surely losing its light. His stomach clenched with uncertainty.

Just when things couldn't have gotten any worse, the persona mask that was tightly plastered against Reala's face began fluttering at the edges. As he continued to fall, the wind picked up and gushed against him. The mask gradually loosened before it was instantaneously uprooted off his eyes. It was whisked away, descending into the darkness.

Reala noticed its absence immediately. He tried to extend an arm in its direction, but his reaction was a second too late, and the persona was already far beyond his reach.

"No!" he choked out, watching as the golden texture of the mask shined for a few moments before it disappeared forever. The cold air crept its way onto the area around his eyes, washing over the newly exposed skin.

This had really gotten to Reala. Everyone knew that mask was far more than just an accessory in a Nightmaren perspective. It was a symbol. It represented one's loyalty to the creator and God of Nightmare, Master Wizeman. It showed that he respected his master. It showed he wasn't a bumbling idiot like NiGHTS, and chose to obey his orders rather than go against them for foolish reasons. That mask meant everything to him.

But then Reala gasped, screwing his eyes down at his own limb. He took a long look at his outstretched hand, mouth agape, and traced his eyes down his elbow, up his shoulder, then back to his hand. He finally gained control of his facial muscles and slammed his mouth shut, but his eyes quivered at their discovery in disbelief.

Instead of having his usual light blue fingers and pink tinted nails, his palms were pitch black, and his fingers were made up of sharp, neon yellow claws. He clicked his fingertips together, as if checking to see if it truly was _his_ hand that he was gawking at. He was able to control it. So it really was his.

There were ovular red and purple plates fastened around his wrists, which had definitely not been there before. He didn't know what they were, nor what purpose they were supposed to serve. Better yet, he had no idea where they came from.

"...Is this some kind of cruel joke?" he said, his voice dragging out, before imploding on itself. "What _happened_ to me!"

The curls of dark blue that cascaded around him evaporated, leaving nothing behind but an open oblivion of black. It bore a strong resemblance to the Dark Ocean. In fact, Reala was beginning to believe that's exactly what it was, if not just an infinite black hole.

Reala turned his attention away from his arm, getting the strange feeling that he was suddenly going blind. His vision was darkening, to the point that he couldn't look over himself for any other possible changes if he wanted to. The dark had rendered him blind.

He eventually closed his eyes, knowing there was no way around this, and no one to help him now. Of course Reala didn't want to give in so easily, but it wouldn't do any good if he defied his fate and chose to show no last dignity when it really mattered. He couldn't escape this...whatever _this_ was. With how tattered he was and his new changes, he didn't even know where to begin with himself. He couldn't even fly.

He succumbed to the unforgiving, unwanted truth. There was not a chance in the universe that he would live. He should've already been dead...he wasn't sure why he survived in the first place. But now it was over. He was going to vanish in this black emptiness, leaving no trace behind. That's all there was to it.

His striped jesters flopped upward as gravity heaved the rest of him down into the darkness. With a final sigh, he loosened his body in the acceptance that he was going to die.

Here's to the end of Reala.

* * *

><p>Deep inside the realms of Nightmare...<p>

Within the large, shadowy fortress of Nightmare Castle...

Once you're inside, go down the hall.

Take a left, another left, and continue straight.

After a bit of time has passed, and your legs are partially sore, you will find yourself at a dead end, standing outside a twisted orange door. It's elongated so far up it nearly grazes the black and purple tiled ceiling. Give the silver handle a tug, swing it open, and enter if you dare.

The room inside is exactly what you expected and more. Bright and vivid...practically over-saturated with limitless color. It's up to the roof with oversized toys, the kind that would be much more suitable for a child's entertainment as opposed to anyone else. But funny enough, despite the innocence of all the novelties, there were also various instruments of torture lying about here and there. The blade of the guillotine in the corner had beads of red liquid spotting down its shiny edges, dryly stained. All because it hadn't been used in such a long time.

In that room, there lay another unconscious Nightmaren. His invisible body parts and defused cape were separated and sprawled out across the hypnotically designed floor. After a few moments without movement, the warm tones of his color scheme suddenly blurred at the edges. The cape released a low hum, emitting a soft glow around its frame. The Nightmaren's invisible form, for the first time in many years, began moving. But not at its will, for its owner had yet to awaken.

Yet it had come to life, and was slowly piecing itself back together like a puzzle until it had become whole again. The cape drew itself to him like a magnet, fastening to his back with a hiss.

Suddenly, the Nightmaren's inner system began working again, slowly spilling in with fresh warmth from head to toe. It wasn't long before his bright blue eyes fluttered little by little, before flying open entirely, allowing the slit pupils to shrink in adjustment as they swiveled in all directions.

His non-existent body was incredibly sore, but the confused Nightmaren paid no attention to it. He felt so lost, like a newborn infant taking its look at the world for the first time. He was driven more by curiosity to his surroundings than curiosity to himself. He suddenly jumped up with a gasp, hovering a few feet off the ground.

Despite being unconscious for so long, he still remembered how to fly.

The sudden movement made him extremely light headed, and for a moment his vision dimmed over with yellow stars. He nearly lost concentration of his flying instinct and almost dropped back to the floor. But after the stars cleared, he blinked and twisted around anxiously.

"W-What is this place? What is this all supposed to be?" he asked the empty air, shivering at the sound of his own voice.

He knew who _he_ was. His own identity was a no brainer. But other than that, the surroundings were foreign.

"I feel like I've been asleep for such a long time..." he added. "And now I've awoken...and it feels like I'm in the future."

He then furrowed his eyes at the ground, the swirling and confusing patterns corresponding to his own shuffling thoughts.

"But never mind that. I could've sworn I just heard someone else here. What was with all that musical nonsense that I just heard?"

He was referring to the strange, feminine voice that had been singing him some sort of foreign lullaby.

"Hmm...I swear if I didn't know I was already insane in the membrane, I would've thought someone was literally sitting there next to me singing a song. It sounded familiar, yet, at the same time, I can't quite put a finger on it."

The Nightmaren shrugged it off. "Eh, whatever. Guess that just proves I'm as crazy as ever."

Then he stopped and took in the objects around him, as well as the ones shoved up against the walls and the trinkets that hung from the ceiling.

There were two enormous green and purple drums. A giant brown teddy bear. Then a red and yellow guillotine...

It was all incredibly overwhelming and nostalgic. The Nightmaren growled in frustration, since he couldn't remember a thing before his awakening. He spun around, facing the opposite side of his room and found that he was facing a large, carnival-themed mirror.

Pieces of glass were missing from some of the edges, and there were a lot of cracks that sliced through his jagged reflection. But it was nothing he couldn't make out. His eyes moved up and down, scanning his form before meeting back with themselves again. They sparked with interest.

Everything seemed to come together at once. Through short, broken flashbacks, everything suddenly made sense again. The Nightmaren's expression became drained of all inquisitiveness, and a sickeningly evil smile danced across his see-through features. He turned around and took another glance at his environment. It was becoming more and more familiar by each ticking second. The epiphany was sinking in.

"...This...is my room..." he mumbled in a low voice, sustaining his excitement. His orange and yellow claws balled into fists and quivered with overpowering joy.

"...I...I thought I was dead...I thought I was dead and well on my way to Hell...Hmm...Maybe I_ was_ dead. Yes, maybe. But now...I'm alive..."

He nodded. "Yes...somehow...not sure how...I'm _alive_..."

Then, the reality of it hit him with full, bittersweet force. The Nightmaren let it boil inside him before he finally exploded with a booming, demonic laugh that rebounded all over the room. His multi-colored jesters flopped down around his head as he whirled throughout the air.

"I'm alive! I'm alive! I'm not dead! I'm actually ALIVE!" he sang loudly, spinning in circles with his arms extended outward. He relished the moment with pure indulgence. His body was not only functioning again, but it also felt completely renewed. It was like a new strength had been born within him. It gave him a sense of raw power.

It felt _really_ good.

He cackled again.

"Jackle the Mantle! Back from the dead, baby!"

He linked his claw around the coiled neck of a nearby Jack-in-the-box toy. Jackle peered into the clown head's lifeless eyes, then without warning planted a big, noisy kiss right over its painted mouth.

"Ehehehe! Isn't that right, Mr. Clown thing? I bet you missed me too, didn't ya!" he leered at it, layers of insanity lacing between his words as he pulled away from the toy's face. "Haha! Yep! I knew you did!"

He released its neck and went back to laughing and dancing all around his room. His blue eyes glittered with delight. Jackle had not a care in the world. This was all too good to be true.

"Oh YEAH!" he hollered. His voice fell into a slur.

"Jackleeeeee...the Mantleee..." he sang again, kicking his shoes around to match up with the tempo. "Jah-Jah-Jah Jackleeee...Back from the DEEAAAD-"

But then, a thought made its way into Jackle's delusional brain. He froze right in the middle of another twirl, leaving his cape to momentarily wrap around him. His smile instantly pressed into a thin line, then turned down. He placed a finger on the edge his his lip, pondering curiously.

"Well gosh...Come to think of...I was dead, wasn't I? That means...that...huh...that means..."

He gasped, suddenly feeling insulted.

"N-No way! That means someone _killed_ me! My death...it was not just any death. It wasn't some sort of accident! Yeah...I think I remember now! I was freaking _murdered _wasn't I!"

Jackle's long, blazing cape fanned out behind him, gently swaying like a sliver of smoke. His happiness rapidly depleted and was replaced with an angry, ravenous feeling. Instantly, Jackle was ready to slice the next person he saw to bits with a nice, crisp deck of playing cards. He couldn't remember the last time his anger had reached this kind of extreme, and he couldn't understand why it was building this quickly.

Though it might have had something to do with the fact that someone actually had the nerve to kill him.

"But _who_ did it...is the real question." he seethed in a voice that could be barely recognized as his own. He scraped his overlapping fangs across each other. "Who would do something like that to that to me... lovely, beautiful _me_..."

Jackle suddenly whipped around and faced the giant brown teddy bear he'd noticed earlier, taking a closer look. It's precious little innocent face somehow reminded him of a certain purple menace. And then...it all came back to him in spurts of scenic memories. His eyes went massive.

In that short moment, Jackle let out a slow, hot breath of air. He hovered closer to the teddy bear, looking back at his own bulging reflection in its lustrous marble eyes. Without a second thought, he lifted his hands and clamped them down over the marbles, ripping them out effortlessly from the bear's sockets with a loud, enraged shriek.

The marbles dropped to the ground and shattered upon impact. Bundled strings of swirly cotton protruded from the teddy bear where its eyes had once been. Jackle panted in cold fury.

His eyes then did something they'd never done before. Through the heavy breathing, they faded from blue to dark purple, then to a hazy scarlet, and then finally they transcended into a luminescent shade of crimson red. His frown suddenly twitched at the corners, and he found himself grinning maliciously.

"NiGHTS," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "...NiGHTS..."

Right then, NiGHTS lazy smiling face appeared before him in his mind, making his already dangerous gaze harden even more.

_It was NiGHTS who killed me. I remember now._

_No one gets away with killing me. No one gets away with killing Jackle the Mantle. No one._

He jumped backward and shrank down into the depths of his toys and torture tools. A twisted glint formed in his red eyes. Everything inside him was now screaming revenge.

"Oh NiGHTS, soon I will find you.

Wherever you are now, even if I have to search high and low, I will find you.

And this time, I'll be the one returning the favor."

His grin then widened.

"This time, I'll kill you myself."


	2. No Need For Sleep

_The raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,_  
><em>Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;<em>  
><em>Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore,<em>  
><em>What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'<em>

The room was completely empty, every visible line of color totally drained. The air was coated in a thick musk that left blankets of clouded gloss on the floor.

There were no walls or doors...no form of division that signified this place could even be considered a single room, as opposed to a giant, infinite world. It had no opening and no ending. It stretched on perpetually, fading off into a curving horizon.

In the center of this room that lay in the cold darkness, a silver bulb that dangled from the nonexistent ceiling suddenly hummed and illuminated to life.

It lit the small space underneath it with a rounded glow, letting off a low and dying hum. Its frequency raised and distorted, slipping in and out of earshot. The reaches where the light didn't hit, the white floor blended to gray and then bled further on into the jet black of the shadows.

From deep within those shadows, there emerged an unnaturally slender girl, adorned in a gray dress that cut off below the knees. The dress itself looked stiff as cardboard, limiting her movements, with the hem painfully scratching at her legs.

Her eyes were hard and distraught. Her mouth pressed into a thin, cautious line. Her light eyelashes twitched back and forth as she burned apertures into the scene in front of her, solidly concentrating on it as she expected something..._anything_ to happen.

She was prepared. Or, so she wanted to believe. Every last small force of strength trickled down into her enclosed fists.

The girl appeared to be extensively calm, yet somehow, on the verge of breaking down at the same time. Her discomfort became further evident as she walked forward inflexibly, drawn towards the light like a curious moth to a flame. Her nose nipped at the strange odor that sauntered about. She kept her dainty and youthful face as fierce as possible.

Since all the color ceased to exist in this foreign universe, the natural pigment in her features was completely gone. Her porcelain complexion brightened in the presence of the light bulb's glow, shining her pale wavy hair as it grazed past the knobs of her elbows and fell in frazzled ripples down to her thighs. Her corset dress was colored like pepper, and the lacing that descended down the chest seemed to messily ricochet off the edges of its ties, rather than cross over in x's like it was meant to. Her feet were compressed into a pair of shiny flats. They clopped softly against the barren floor as she stepped forward. Her dense eyes focused in on what lay underneath that strange, flickering bulb.

_This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing..._

She then squinted slightly and leaned her head to the right with curiosity. The bulb was acting almost as a spotlight for the bizarre object that lye underneath it. Yes, there was in fact something else in this room besides her.

A dark, inky object that was frayed at the edges.

But the girl noticed the 'object' seemed to flutter and breathe softly, moving mildly in place. She stalled in her steps, feeling her bravery rattle.

It wasn't just some sort of item after all.

No...it was breathing...sighing even...It was very much alive.

From where she stood, it was impossible to make out its form completely, but she noticed it dwelled on top of what looked like a metallic black pole that jutted up from the ground. Its feet clung to the tip of the pole with a stature similar to that of a bird.

_...To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;_

The creature's eyes flashed to life, peeling open like a pair of unfolding circles. They were a dull, bloodless white. There was no pupil or iris present. Just two cloudy marbles that glowed incandescently on its face.

A faint, inky white mist suddenly poured out of the eyes and intertwined throughout the stuffy air, going off in repelling directions. She could see through the smoky matter that this bird-like animal was eyeing her, frowning at her intrusion. She could tell that it was becoming increasingly angry.

Her mouth went dry and she stepped back with a tight breath, instantly feeling cold all over.

_This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,_  
><em>But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,<em>  
><em>She shall press, ah, nevermore.<em>

The girl couldn't deny that she was afraid. Her heartbeat was quaking her entire body and her teeth threatened to chatter. But she remained where she was, and stared the strange being down while freezing in correspondence to the ice that was now flushing through her veins.

She wanted it to be the first to look away. She knew this game.

To her, avoiding eye contact was finalizing defeat, or admitting to weakness. She didn't want it to know how scared or weak she was, even though fear was easily distinguishable in her wide and curious eyes. She wanted to be strong, no matter the circumstances, and reflected its hate with the same unforgivable daggers, and the glare of the light bouncing back off her empty gaze.

_Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor._

More smoke drifted in from the edges of the girl's peripheral vision, branching in and out through the room as if it were something brewing underwater. Before she could avert her attention towards it, she suddenly felt like she'd lost control of her body, and found herself being dragged closer towards the monster. She gasped soundlessly, and the noise seemed to reverse back into her chest.

Despite her objection and mental commands, she couldn't bring herself to halt. Within mere seconds, the animal's outline became more and more distinct until she could see with sure confirmation that it was a bird after all. But not just any bird. A scrawny black crow.

As she approached, it slowly uncoiled its spidery wings, clicking its shiny ebony beak and watching her icily as if she were a savory morsel, willingly beckoning him to devour her. It was waiting for her to get closer. Closer. Closer.

_`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore._

By now she was wracking all over with uneasiness. But she couldn't turn away despite her churning effort. Those misting eyes were drawing her in like there was some sort of magnetic attraction. Her dress flowed behind her as she stepped closer, as if trying to retreat when she would not.

_Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'_  
><em>Quoth the raven,<em>

The raven opened its beak again, this time letting out a slow and sickeningly vile screech that rang the girl's ears raw.

She exhaled more softly, knowing with fear but reassurance what her fate would be. It would all be over soon. She knew it.

As if to speed up the process, her voice came out in small whisper that echoed off the wall-less rims of this world, involuntarily uttering the only word drifting through her head.

"...Nevermore..."

_"Miss Archibold!"_

Her face contorted with shock as she was yanked out of the darkness all at once. Some unseen force had grabbed a hold of her and pulled her by the back of her collar.

She could see the light as it faded away. But before it completely disappeared she watched the bulb burst open, sending sparks raining down on the crow as it glared after her.

The atmosphere disintegrated, fading to an intense white.

And the nightmare was over.

Her eyes instantly flew open. Her head launched upward from the bony pillow she'd made with her overlapping arms, and she let out a gasp. The fluorescent lighting immediately poured in, washing out the previous peachy black darkness that the seal of her eyelids had created as she blinked over and over.

She was back in the real world, taking a few gasps of air as a glaze formed on her forehead.

_I'm...awake. I'm really awake now. It was just a dream. Yes, just a dream. It was all just another stupid dream._

Once her mind had fallen back into focus and her rapid breathing subdued, she slowly looked up and came face to face with one of the last people she would've wanted to see after barely waking up from some unusual horror of a nightmare. Her strict and elderly English teacher, Ms. Bordeaux, who was every bit as terrifying as what she saw when she was asleep. If not a bit more.

The old woman loomed over, scrunching her apple-green eyes at her slumbering and borderline hyperventilating student. The canyons of her wrinkles deepened slightly around her hooked nose. Her chalky red lips puckered before dividing to speak.

"What seems to be the problem, Miss Lydia Archibold? Have I awakened you?"

It took a moment for the taunting message to sink in. But once it did, Lydia only pouted back, her regular personality back intact.

Instead of answering, she darted her eyes away and took a moment to scan the surrounding students through the corner of her vision, knowing that they had to have all been staring at her by now. And just as usual, her suspicions were right.

She could see they were all watching her from their desks, some fighting back snickers and others sinking down in their seats, momentarily relieved that the teacher had turned her attention away from the lecture to get onto her instead.

Lydia then caught sight of Christy Chamberlin, her least favorite person out of all the egotistical snobs she'd ever encountered during her short time in the tenth grade.

She gawked back at Lydia for a moment before rolling her candied eyes and turning away from the scene, picking something out from under her thumbnail. Lydia huffed quietly in annoyance.

Yes, Christy certainly was a pleasure to have around.

People like her always believed that everyone and everything in the world was beneath them. And in a way, Lydia felt bad for people like them, because she always expected that the real world would one day give them a well-deserved slap in the face.

But in Christy's case, that, of course, never happened. She wasn't nearly as upfront about her superiority, but you could tell she was thinking it all the time. She probably garnered more kisses on her arse than she did slaps in the face.

_Wham!_

Lydia jumped and returned her gaze to her teacher, who had slapped a ruler down onto the desktop

She knew that was the cue to explain herself before things took a turn for the ugly, when Ms. Bordeaux would decide to use the ruler on her. She sighed, not liking the diverse attention on her, but figured there was nothing left to do but say something now or never.

"I-I'm really sorry, Miss Bordeaux. Really, truly, _sorry,_" she said apologetically. But people who knew her better would've been able to detect the faint sarcasm that twined through her drawn-out voice. She shook off the arrogant persona and began speaking with more genuine regret.

"I honestly didn't mean to...you know...just doze off in the middle of class. It's just I didn't get much sleep last night and-"

She stopped right there, out of intimidation from Ms. Bordeaux's burning glare.

"Miss Archibold, you know as well as anyone else that I will not tolerate this consistent laziness in my classroom. If you want to sleep, then perhaps you should go to bed earlier. Naps are for kindergarten students. You're in high school, so I would expect you to have more discipline and self-control."

She then softened, releasing an irritated breath.

"Consider this your first and final warning. Because if there are any more disruptions or misconduct, which includes your little siestas during my lesson, it'll result in a week's detention for you. Is that understood?"

Lydia's nose twitched as she looked down. Leave it to Ms. Bordeaux to go from a warning to a week's detention.

"Sure..."

"_Sure_..?" Ms. Bordeaux pressed on, lifting her graying eyebrow.

"...I mean yes ma'am."

Ms. Bordeaux nodded. "Excellent. That's more like it. Alright, now that that's taken care of, let's get back to our lesson shall we?"

The entire class stiffened, reluctantly pulling out their pencils to continue jotting down notes.

The teacher reached for the paperback poetry book that lay half-open on her counter, licking her index finger before sifting back through the pages as she folded her other arm around the spine.

"Ah yes, this is where we left off," she said, pausing on a page somewhere in the middle of the book. "The Raven, by Edgar Allen Poe. But I take it none of you happened to forget the title, seeing as you were supposed to have written it down."

She cleared her throat then began reading.

_"Prophet, said I, thing of evil, Prophet still, if bird or devil,_  
><em>Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,<em>  
><em>Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted,<em>  
><em>On this home by horror haunted, tell me truly, I implore,<em>  
><em>Is there...is there balm in Gilead? Tell me, tell me, I implore!'<em>  
><em>Quoth the raven, `Nevermore."<em>

Lydia found her eyes wandering to the ceiling and reeling across the beige walls, as the words that kept rolling out of her English teacher's mouth moved to the back of her mind. She took in the plain environment of the classroom, somewhat thankful for all the bright lights, small hints of color here and there, and the window, where there was sweet sunshine pouring in from outside. It was much more pleasant than what she had to endure previously when she'd fallen asleep.

Now that she thought back on it, she knew that this poem by Edgar-What's-his-face had obviously somehow melded into her nightmare. The story was something about a raven, and low and behold, she had met a crow in the dream. It wasn't a coincidence. This kind of thing happened quite frequently, actually. To lots of people, not just her. She was no special case.

But the thing about her that was a tad unusual, was not her 'consistent laziness'. It was her consistent nightmares.

She'd been having these frightening dreams continuously every night, ever since the previous Sunday. And it was Friday now.

Even when she crashed for only five minutes in the middle of English class, all the bloodcurdling images were still making their way into her subconscious. While Lydia wasn't the kind of person who woke up screaming between hours of the night after a nightmare, once she did awaken, she always found herself too disturbed to even think about going back to sleep. She would just sit there in her bed, with the filtered moonlight basking on her from behind the curtains on the window, which overlooked a rather brilliant view of Bellbridge, and sometimes she would shake a little.

She knew that no matter how long she waited before attempting to sleep again, no matter how much she comforted herself and told her that none of it was real and that it was all in her head, all those monsters that she saw before were still there in her dreams. Waiting for her to return.

_Bvvvvt._

Lydia's maple brown eyes dropped suddenly once her thoughts were interrupted, widening at the sound of vibration in her handbag which lay propped against the side of the chair.

It was her phone. She'd received a text message.

She briefly looked at Ms. Bordeaux and waited for her to turn away from the students so she'd have the opportunity to pull her cell phone out.

Once the frail English teacher had spun around to write down an essay prompt on the chalkboard, Lydia reached down and dove her hand into her handbag, her fingers combing through gum wrappers and loose change, until she could feel the bulky phone case.

She quickly pried the Jurassic-aged device out and hid it under her desk, pressing the home button on the front to bring it out of idle mode. The lights initiated, and a white plane filled the rims of the screen with a pixelated envelope unfolding in the center.

_1 New Message from Evangeline Sawyer_

Lydia smiled.

Evangeline Sawyer. The two of them were so close they were practically sisters. In fact, Evangeline happened to be in this class sitting just a few rows behind her. Texting her during class wasn't out of the ordinary. They always had these silent conversations with one another despite being mere feet apart. After all, talking out loud wasn't permitted.

She clicked the View button to read the text.

_Wowwwww...that was just...omg wowwww...You never cease to amaze me, sweetheart. You are incredibly fearless to have gone to sleep during the dragon lady's lesson. I applaud you. No really, I am clapping ecstatically on the inside._

_Anyways I hope you had a nice nap, oh and make sure you didn't drool on yourself._

Lydia rolled her irises playfully. She could practically hear her friend's voice as if she were right next to her. She checked to make sure Ms. Bordeaux was still occupied at the board, before typing out and sending a reply.

_Oh come off it. It shouldn't be THAT surprising that I managed to fall asleep. Said dragon lady could put a ravaging tiger to sleep. But everyone in here knows not to try it, seeing as she'd slit their throats with that ruler._

After she sent the message, she hid the phone under the hem of her baby blue skirt, which was part of her mandatory school uniform, resting it on top of her leg.

Ms. Bordeaux removed the stump of chalk from the board and examined the prompt she wrote, before shaking her head and extending her arm towards the eraser.

_Bvvvvt._

As Ms. Bordeaux gave instructions and swept the eraser wedge across the board, Lydia immediately pulled out her phone again, using the desk as a sneaky, yet obvious cover.

_You couldn't be more right. Feel lucky that you survived. Oh and I thought I'd let you know, that guy Stephen, you know the one who sits by me, is currently staring at you. It isn't creepy, but it's not quite charming either. He's just STARING like this o_O. I've had my eye on him this whole time. He's sort of making me feel awkward about it._

Lydia blinked. She honestly wasn't sure how to respond to that. Everyone knew Stephen was the socially awkward guy with glasses larger than his face, who rarely talked to anyone, not counting the guys in his band class. People said he was a quote unquote 'Prodigy' when it came to the saxophone...of all things. But other than that, she didn't know much about him.

_It's okay. I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure he's not the only one staring at me after I embarrassed myself the way I did._

No sooner did she reply, did she hear the familiar hum of vibration. Evangeline had the advantage of being closer to the back of the room where the teacher didn't see her. Her replies were quick, long, and she conveniently never got caught.

_Well now that you mention it, Josh is looking your way too! ;) Except, HIS stare happens to very charming. Sexy even. It's like he's deep in thought...about you or something ;) Pretty adorable if you ask me, Lydia ;)_

Lydia smiled and shrugged it off. So honestly didn't really care if this Josh guy was looking her way. He was nice as far as she knew, but he was someone Evangeline found to be easy on the eyes, with his shaggy brown hair, six foot two-ness, and chiseled abdomen that Evangeline swore would probably sizzle if you touched it. It was evident she got butterflies just by the sight of him. But Lydia, on the other hand, wasn't interested in the slightest.

_Again, probably because I just made myself out to be the class idiot. Now please don't abuse the winky face icon, dear._

The dismissal bell rang. Everyone who'd been watching the clock leapt up and instantly filed out the door to sophomore lunch, while Lydia, too drained to be in a rush, slowly bent over and began collecting her pencils to store in their own compartment inside her book bag. Christy strutted past her, chin up and arms intersecting. Her skirt slapped against Lydia's cheek as she walked by.

Lydia hissed quietly, recoiling back and glaring at Christy's backside as she left the room. Evangeline appeared at her side, her own bags already slung over her shoulder as the two of them watched the queen bee disappear down the hall in unison.

"What a tramp," she said with distaste. "I saw what she did. That was completely uncalled for."

She waited patiently for Lydia to gather her belongings as she got up and walked out of the room, neither of them paying attention to Christy's show of witchiness any longer.

Once she had rhythm in her steps, Lydia started to feel slightly dizzy from the movement due to her lack of energy as they both strode at each other's side.

"Woah. Not meaning to offend, but you know you kind of look...like death right now," Evangeline said matter of factly. "Just putting that out there."

Lydia lowered her head and continued walking, dodging around the students who were going in the opposite direction. Walking through Bellview High in a straight line for more than ten seconds between classes was unheard of. It was like a big game of Frogger.

"I heard that it's bad to get less than eight hours of sleep every night," Evangeline pressed on, figuring that if Lydia wasn't in the mood to talk, she could take both sides of the conversation and keep it from dying before it even began. "That could be wrong, but to me it makes a lot of sense. I don't know about you, but I can't hardly function if I get less than five hours. If it's any lower, then I would definitely take a sick day."

Lydia internally shook her head, not having the energy to do so physically. Like her father would ever let her stay home just because she was too fatigued to go to school. She played the scenario out in her head. If she refused to get out of bed, he'd probably laugh in a 'you're joking...right?' kind of way, and then proceed with dragging her out by her ankles.

"So what's been keeping you up every night?" Evangeline asked over the chatter of surrounding ninth graders as they passed the freshman hall. "Homework? Phone calls? Phone calls with a _boy_?"

Lydia smiled a bit at this. Her best friend was so guy crazy, it proved to be pretty entertaining at times. But that was one thing they didn't have in common. Lydia paid no attention to boys.

"No," she answered. Her voice was a bit croaky, but it was still understandable. "It's...er...it's been these nightmares actually."

Evangeline turned to face her as they walked, narrowing her eyes. "Explain?"

Lydia sighed. "I've been having loads, and I mean LOADS of nightmares when I go to sleep now. It's happened every single night, over and over again all week long. You may think I'm just being a huge wuss. But it's...complicated I guess you could say. The only way you would understand is if you saw what I saw in these dreams. They're really, really disturbing. It's always things like dark stuff, blood, natural disasters, rabid dogs...etcetera."

"Are there any clowns involved?"

Lydia paused. "Uh no, not that I can remember. No clowns."

"You shouldn't be having any serious problems then," Evangeline said with a shudder.

She herself had made it clear that she had a pathological fear of clowns. There was even a story about a time she went to a circus when she was seven or eight, and a clown walked up to her asking if she would be interested in a balloon animal. She responded with kicking him in the shin, then running away screaming bloody murder. And the funny thing was, she would probably react the same way now, even being sixteen.

Lydia searched for a quick response to her comment, but her brain wasn't working well due to her level of exhaustion.

"I don't know," she finally said. "This isn't the first time this has happened to me. And last time, it took about a month before the nightmares stopped coming and everything went back to normal. I know I won't die from having bad dreams or anything...but it's still annoying. And scary too."

"This has happened before?" Evangeline inquired, sounding a bit like a concerned parent or counselor. "When?"

"Er, around twelve years ago I think," Lydia answered quietly.

"So you were three?"

"Yeah."

"How can you remember that far back?"

Lydia grew tense and turned to look at Evangeline dead in the eye, trying hard not to come off too strong.

"It was the year my brother was born. So, yeah. Kind of hard to forget."

Evangeline's eyes widened, and she went silent instantly. "Oh...right. Michael... he is three years younger than you. Huh. I forgot about that."

Lydia could feel the guilt radiating off her friend. They both knew the memory that was being implied, even though nothing about it was said. Things got awkward for a minute.

"Lyds, I swear I didn't know," Evangeline said quickly, tugging on a strand of her straightened, synthetically red hair. Lydia couldn't help but roll her eyes to herself.

_Great_, she thought, _here we go_.

"I know I need to think before I speak," Evangeline went on. "I'm so sorry I even brought it up."

Lydia softened, flashing a smile to save the mood before it turned sour. "Oh stop it, I'm not about to hold anything over you," she stated with forced sincerity. "Don't you worry about it. The last thing I want is for you to pity me over nothing."

Her eyes glazed over. "If you want to feel bad for me, then you probably should feel bad right now... since I have to walk all the way to the cafeteria when I'm operating on two hours of sleep. It's like, oh I dunno, fifty thousand miles away! Not to mention I must look like a zombie."

"Well...I can't argue with you there," Evangeline said teasingly, the twinkle in her eyes returning. "I'm surprised your dad sent you to school, and not to a morgue."

Lydia giggled and looked down. Even if it was a joke, it was still partially true. The dark circles under her eyes were starting to weigh the rest of her face down.

But then, she suddenly felt herself getting scooped up off her feet, and thrown over a soft, tan shoulder blade.

"Woah!" she screeched in surprise, knowing that it was Evangeline after being momentarily blinded by the tuff of scarlet locks. Her arms balled up in her friend's black school shirt. She was having fearful doubts that someone as slim as her could even support her weight.

"Evangeline! What in the world are you doing! Put me down you moron!"

"Out of my way people! Move it!" Evangeline shouted, ignoring her and dramatically bolting past more students with Lydia and her bag dangling off her shoulder like rag dolls. "Best friend in distress here! Don't be the cause of her downfall!"

The only thing Lydia could do was giggle as she clawed onto Evangeline's back for dear life. If there were to be any sort of downfall, it would definitely be her, falling down.

"Come on, you're going to drop me!" she shouted.

"No I won't!" Evangeline digressed. "I work out!"

"Stretching in dance class is _not_ considered working out!"

"Sorry, I can't hear you over my muscular build! Now hang tight and don't fidget!"

Lydia sighed between her laughter. After knowing a person for five years, one would think they had them all figured out. But some people were totally unpredictable all throughout, as they were unforgettable.

Evangeline Sawyer was one of them. She was a girl who knew her manners well, but also wasn't afraid to step outside the comfort zone and drag others along with her. It was no wonder she'd been Lydia's best friend for so long.

She felt her energy swell from inside. She went from quiet chortles to laughing so hard she was desperately gasping for air. Her exhaustion was left behind as they both whisked down the hall together to lunch. Instead of being shocked, onlookers watched with smiles, totally understanding of the two high school girls' unbreakable bond.

The only person who wasn't moved was Christy Chamberlin, who stood at her locker along with a flock of other sophomore bimbos. She flipped her hair over her shoulder distastefully at the sighting of them passing by. Lydia picked herself up off Evangeline's back and sarcastically winked at her as they grew farther apart. She then plugged her nose and made a noise of disgust, signifying that their cotton candy perfume and hairspray was overbearing enough to gas out the entire school. Which it was.

Christy yelled a profanity after her, and all Lydia did was laugh some more.

* * *

><p><em>Well, it couldn't be any bigger of an annoyance than actually going on and dying this way. THIS way. Of all ways. In a way I can't even describe or understand.<em>

_I still don't know what's going on, or what's happening, or where I am or even__** who**__ I am. All I know is that I somehow went through an unnecessary transformation that left me looking utterly ridiculous, and now I'm descending into Nightmaren Hell._

_Isn't that great? Isn't that just...just bloody __**fantastic**__?_

Reala's eyes cracked open, the black slashes through his lids finally parting. All he could see was black. His hands fidgeted little by little as he absent-mindedly felt around to see if there was anything within his range of touch. When he found himself raking in handfuls of absolutely nothing, he gave up and breathed out silently.

_...I swear, If I had known I would go like this, and this soon, I would've made...I guess more of an effort to fulfill every last one of my wishes. And I know I would have an overwhelmingly long list. A Nightmaren Bucket list, perhaps._

_Killing NiGHTS would've been at the top. No doubt about that._

He pondered for a moment.

_Number two would be...erm...terrorizing some weak little children?_

He internally shook his head.

_No, that's something I've done too many times for it to still be nearly as enjoyable. Hmm, but what else could there be?_

_Come on, this was meant to be a __long__ list. There's got to be something else I've never done but desired to fulfill._

But then, Reala felt a pang of realization hit him.

_Wait...I'm...I'm thinking_.

He squinted.

_I'm thinking thoughts._

_I'm no expert on the afterlife, but isn't it impossible to think if you're dead?_

One of his eyelids twitched.

_And have your eyes open and blinking?_

Suddenly, a gust of soft, velvety wind encased the Nightmaren just as he became swallowed in his own endless confusion. It caused him to writhe slightly, and out of instinct his pupils shifted vertically.

He found himself staring at a small, glowing blue marble.

Reala's mind went blank. All his thoughts and worries escaped him. He kept his widened gaze plastered on the peculiar object, digging his eyes deeper and deeper into it until he could make out some other colors. There were patches of bright green, some rusty brown, and even stark white colors splashed across the rims of the marble. Traces of shadows carved in and out of it, creating a texturized illusion.

Reala noticed that it was actually very...enchanting. He even felt an urge to reach out and grab it in his hand, but didn't have the strength. He just watched it carefully, analyzing every last detail...until the most inevitable happened.

The marble started to grow.

Reala recoiled a little, squinting his eyes in rough concentration. He was struck with fatigue, and a pulsating numbness that continued to linger throughout his body. He didn't quite understand what he was looking at, and then tried piecing together the information. His weak conclusion was that the blue dot was supposed to be the light everyone was meant to see before they died.

Never proven, but always foretold, every poor soul on his way to death was supposed to see that infamous light, and go to it.

But for some reason, he wasn't reacting to it in a way that hinted triumph or even dependence towards the object, despite that it was technically the only thing standing between him and the peaceful world of the dead. If anything, he felt it was growing too fast, and its enchantment was quickly lost. He wanted to shrink away from it in fear that it would make a painful collision with his face.

But then he realized that the marble wasn't growing.

It was moving.

It was getting closer.

No, _he_ was getting closer.

Its form slowly became superior to the depth of surrounding blackness. The gravity around it worked at a feverish speed, reeling Reala's body in with suction that was impossible to rip away from. Reala almost made an attempt to struggle, but knew that doing so was entirely worthless. Where was he supposed to go if he managed to break away from the cyan sphere's powerful grasp anyway? He didn't know where he was, how he could get out...he couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. He even questioned if all this was just a figment of his imagination, playing him with a euphoric hallucination to make him believe that something interesting was about to happen, when in reality, he was being led to his demise.

That cold, painful word ebbed away at any ounce of hope he had left.

Reality.

Nonetheless, his thoughts got lost in the curious beauty of the marble. The blackness around him receded, and for the second time he was unsure of what would happen to him.

But he was about to find out.

* * *

><p>While bidding her friends goodbye outside the school, Evangeline placed a hand over Shannon Kaybury's shoulder and shook it cheerfully.<p>

"Don't forget! My house, tomorrow!" she reminded her, a grin spreading across her pink lips.

Shannon giggled and nudged the girl standing next to her, Molly Wilhelm, before turning back to Evangeline.

"How could we not remember? It's going to be the best night of our lives!" she said.

Molly smiled along. "I know right! There's no better way to end the summer than with the four of us going to the biggest teen club Bellbridge has to offer."

Lydia only smirked lazily at all of them.

"We'll both be there around six thirty-ish. And you make sure not to forget to bring _her_," Molly said, gesturing towards Lydia. "After all, she's our new project."

Lydia's smile faltered slightly and she shot Evangeline an annoyed glance. She already knew what Molly was referring to, and what this whole project thing was about. They had all discussed it during lunch. Shannon, who aspired to be a hair-stylist, and Molly, who was training to be a make-up artist, wanted desperately to poke and prod at Lydia's pathetic little half-arsed appearance. And that's exactly what they were going to do, against her consent, so she would be all done up in time for the teen club they were attending.

"I won't particularly enjoy that part, if I'm being honest," Lydia stated, jutting her bottom lip out.

Evangeline just laughed and waved Shannon and Molly off. "Whatever, you'll get over it. Bye you guys, see you later!"

They returned the bidding before strutting away. Evangeline took Lydia by the shoulders and turned her around.

"Listen darling, you should at least_ try_ to not to be stubborn. They're doing this for your own good. So please cooperate. In my opinion I think they'll be doing you a huge favor."

She then looked at her a bit closely. "For example, I know for a fact that your blonde eyelashes drive them mad. You should really invest in some kind of dark mascara."

Lydia laughed. "Okay first of all, they're not blonde," she said, batting her eyes before pointing to her head. "Try again. They're light brown. Just like the hair on my cranium, if not a more brownish color. And I should know about darkness and shading techniques. I've worn down more pencils with my sketching than I can count."

She nudged away. "Second of all, I don't see the point in getting all dressed up for one night. Can't I just go as myself? Isn't saying 'Yeah I look like a disaster and don't give a single damn' the better message?"

Evangeline huffed. "You _will_ be going as yourself. You'll only be a tiny bit more gorgeous. Now I'll be over tomorrow morning so I can take you out to shop for outfits. Be sure not to tell your dad anything, or else we'll all be toast."

"Trust me, I won't," Lydia said, reminding herself that all the adults, including Evangeline, Molly, and Shannon's parents had no idea that they were spending their Saturday at a teen club in downtown Bellbridge. She knew if her father found out where they were going, he wouldn't just blow a circuit. He'd blow a circuit and then proceed with blowing out his entire framework.

"Well I should get going now. My bus is here." Lydia said, stepping away from her best friend.

Evangeline sighed. "Alright, again I'll be there to get you tomorrow! Bye, Lydia!"

Lydia laughed and waved back. "See you later."

After she was alone, she walked off in the direction of the bus and climbed aboard the one that was bound for her street, which was right along the outskirts of Bellbridge in second-class suburbia.

Her eyes met the driver's for a split-second. She was a scruffy middle-aged woman with a dented grin and greasy black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She nodded at her as she stepped past the leather cushions of seats, sitting in one that lye a few rows away from the entry door.

"Nice to see 'ou again, Miss Archibold," the driver said in her heavy accent, watching Lydia in the mirror as she sat down. " 'Ow's yer brother doing then? Still under the weather, is he?"

Lydia sat down and laughed awkwardly, smoothing out her skirt and placing her bag by the window.

"No, ma'am. He's actually much better. We gave him this medicine that killed whatever was left of his flu. He finally came to school today, a little tired but able to manage. So he should be at the usual stop by the middle school."

The driver emitted a hearty chuckle while cranking the stick shift to start driving, right as the remaining students filed on and the door folded shut.

"Well I'm glad to 'ear. Could be the weather changin', eh? It is September after all, and there's nothing nastier than a late summer cold. I 'ope to see him in good health soon."

Lydia nodded. "Thank you. And me too. He should be fine now."

As soon as the bus started moving and the driver turned her attention towards the road, Lydia slumped back in her seat and breathed heavily, feeling every tense muscle in her body crumble in defeat. The toes of her feet pressed in between the ridges carved throughout the floor, pushing against the vibrating ground until it sent itches up her ankles. Her head lolled over in the window's direction. The sun sent down heated rays that bathed over her ecru-tinted cheeks, while the rest of her lay in the lukewarm shade.

With every passing shadow that dimmed the sunshine, her eyes grew heavier, until she gave in and allowed them to finally flutter shut.

* * *

><p><em>Everything was gray. Gray. Black. Red. And then more gray.<em>

_The small girl rose from the blood splashed sheets on her bed and moved towards Lydia in a broken motion, her body creaking like an old rocking chair. The same crow from the last dream was present, now perched on the bedpost and flapping its wings in steady beats._

_"Lydia..." the girl said in a quiet sing song voice, parting her torn and tangled white hair away from the center of her face. She revealed her severely disfigured features. Her eyes turned red as chunks of soggy black matter poured from her opening mouth._

_Wake up._

* * *

><p>Lydia awoke with unusual adrenaline. She could feel the air breeze past the new moisture that crept across her tussled brows and down the back of her neck. Her breathing came out in quick, yet quiet puffs. And just as the golden shimmer of the sun blinded her, and the slowing of the bus' wheels caused her to move forward little by little, she looked up and was met with a blurry figure sitting directly across from her. When her vision finally came into focus, she found a pair of familiar hazel green eyes staring her down.<p>

"Sis?" Michael spoke almost in a whisper. "Sis, are you alright? You're all sweaty and stuff."

Lydia brushed her fingers past the middle of her scalp, the crankiness sinking into her system. But when she re-opened her eyes and took a good look at her younger brother, who had just been picked up from his junior high, she was enveloped in sugary sweetness. With his brown bangs dripping down the bridge of his nose, and those dark, lengthy lashes blinking back at her in childish curiosity, she couldn't help but forget about her nightmares, her worries, and anything else there was to be angry about at the moment. She reached forward and bumped the bottom of his chin with her knuckle.

"Hey there," she greeted warmly, forgetting his question completely. "How was your day? Are you feeling any better?"

Michael was about to ponder on her sudden mood change, but ignored it and swatted her hand away playfully. "Eh, it was alright. And I'm alright as well. My throat's been a little sore, but after lunch it felt loads better."

The brakes came to a hissing stop. Lydia leaned over to look down the aisle.

"Alright, 'ere we are. Red Orchid Drive. This is yer stop, luvs," the driver said after meeting back with her eyes in the mirror.

Instead of getting up, Michael turned to look out the window. He peered at their plain little home as it awaited them uninvitingly.

"That was quick," he noted, rising with his blue and red backpack and stepping away from the seats. His sister followed closely behind as they walked down the narrow aisle together, stepping through the entry door one at a time.

"Oy, look at that kid leaving. He's practically connected to his sister at the hip!" Michael heard some boy remark behind him.

Another chimed in with a laugh. "Wow. What a weak little imbecile. Has no friends, follows his older sis like a lost pup. How can something so puny be such a gigantic loser?"

Michael shrugged off the comments, even though they sank deep into him with their spiked heads. His sister was already off the bus, and didn't hear them at all.

The moment their shoes hit the curb, and the humid warmth set in, Lydia couldn't help but feel her nausea building as her eyes scanned over the house.

There was nothing particularly wrong with the outside. Every shingle on the roof was still in ship-shape. Every brown brick was completely free of chips and decay. Every window was set with glass, so lustrous they could substitute mirrors. There were bushes with dewy dark green leaves bordering the lot, some sprouting magnolias while others were home to spotted geckos and the worms that buried themselves deep in the rich earth.

And then, overshadowing the house with its pathetic shade was one scrawny tree; tall enough to scrape the walls of the second story, but not abundant enough to block the view of the two windows up there, which led to Lydia and Michael's rooms.

Lydia must have stared a little too long, because before she knew it the bus was leaving them in its swirling dust. Michael stepped ahead of her and proceeded towards the front door.

He opened it slowly, and as Lydia stepped onto the porch, she could feel the dry, chilling air inside contrasting with the summer gusts. Her skin retaliated with a few prickling goose bumps as she stepped in and slammed the door behind her, cutting herself away from the world outside.

Now entering what was meant to be her sanctuary.

"Hello? Dad? You in here?" Michael called out. He walked over to the archway that led into the living room, leaving a cautious Lydia behind. His feet paused at the opening, and he stared inside. The color in his face shifted.

"Dad."

"Mmm...who's there...what is it," said her father's unseen voice. It lingered with unusual gruffness. He had probably been taking a nap. "Michael? Lydia?"

"Yeah, dad. It's just us," Michael said. "We're home from school."

Her father, Richard Archibold, remained silent after that. Lydia tossed her purse and book bag by the stairs, a few of the contents spilling out halfway, and went over to stand closely at Michael's side.

"Hey, I'm starved. What are the plans for dinner?" she asked a little too stiffly.

The sound of his daughter's voice caused the forty-two year old man to rise up from the leather couch, opposite the direction of the television, and turn to face them both. His dark blonde hair stood up on the side, his drooping brown eyes were dull and bloodshot. He groaned as he stood, then pressed one callused palm against his blonde whiskers and pushed until his neck cracked.

"Erm, I dunno. How does spaghetti sound?" he said tiredly. It didn't sound much like a question.

Lydia's nose wrinkled. "That's disgusting. You mean _leftover_ spaghetti?"

"...Right, Dad, you do know that spaghetti's almost two weeks old," Michael said sheepishly.

"Should still be edible, little spoiled kids," their father replied hastily. "You both know I've been working overtime at the shop. My arse is tired enough as it is, the last thing I want to do is cook right now. Come on, you two just heat yourselves up a few bowls and you should be good to go."

He instantly became annoyed with his children's reluctant glares. They both knew putting their exhaust ridden father to work at the stove was begging for disaster. But still, they couldn't help but be displeased.

"Ah, don't give me those looks! It could be far worse!" he declared, stumbling past the couch towards them. "We're not talking gourmet meals here. It's just something to fill your bellies. Fresh food, rotted food, it should all do the trick, eh?"

Neither of the siblings answered. They just turned and exchanged a mutual glance of frustration, Lydia's a bit stronger than Michael's, and the two turned and headed upstairs to their rooms without another word.

After they left, Mr. Archibold plopped back down onto the couch, feeling between the seats in search of the remote.

"Blasted kids," he ranted. "So ungrateful, they are."

He laughed a bit to himself.

"Mhm. So, so ungrateful."

* * *

><p>"B-But I...I don't...this really is...and I..."<p>

Owl shuffled around in place, unable to control his movements. He was too flabbergasted to even notice that he was talking, and flapping, like he'd gone completely senile. Which he pretty much had.

_"BUT THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!"_

NiGHTS didn't even bother interrupting him. He just hovered in a sitting position, arms crossed and cobalt eyes turned into slits. His mouth lifted and formed a very satisfied smirk.

This was exactly the reaction from Owl he'd been expecting, and even anticipating. It wasn't out of cruel intention, it was simple innocent amusement. The only implied 'danger' that ocurred from him not stepping in to calm the bird down was that said bird was losing a significant amount of his feathers from all the pacing and scrambling.

"I-I thought you were dead!" Owl rambled on. "Er...of course I didn't actually want you to be dead, but I found it was safe to assume after you failed to return, yet the balance of Nightopia was somehow miraculously restored! There are no nightmares, no cases of stolen ideya, and certainly _no_ Nightmaren. And I understand if there can't be a Wizeman, then there very well can't be Nightmaren, since they were created from his power! If he's gone...then they go with him! Unless nature's laws decided to defy themselves and have a selective few remain alive, and that could be why you're still here."

NiGHTS scratched the back of his jester, still beaming proudly.

Owl was now flying in repetitive circles. "But then that doesn't answer my other questions. Such as, why do you look like that! Where are your gloves, what happened to your clothing, and more importantly how is it you're the only one who lived! _Are_ you the only one who lived? When did you come back! Did you even leave at all in the first place? How-"

"Owl!" NiGHTS interrupted him. "Owl, breathe."

Strangely enough, the old bird obeyed and inhaled rapidly until his feathery chest puffed out, before releasing it in a short puff.

"NiGHTS..." he said, in a softer and less frantic voice. "I need answers. And I mean right now, please, before I implode on myself. Don't get me wrong, it's good...no _great_ to have you back and I'm glad you are indeed alive, but I'm still so...so..._confused_."

"As am I," NiGHTS responded, his knees dropping as he glided forward a little. "I have as many questions as you do, and haven't had a lot of time to put the pieces together on my own. All I know is that I awoke to my own melody, in the middle of the sky. That's where my memory begins." He gestured up at the stars.

Owl followed his hand and stared deep into the navy blue night, his beak still hanging open.

"What do you mean, _your own melody_?"

NiGHTS just chuckled and dismissed his question, flying over to the fountain. The water cast rippled blue lights all over his limber body.

"We can do the math later, old bird. But for now, we should ready ourselves to greet the Dreamers. Don't you agree?"

Instead of answering, Owl only watched him in sheer bewilderment. Why NiGHTS wasn't more curious on how he was supposedly resurrected from the dead with no logical explanation, was completely beyond him. But after seeing the purple jester's intent expression as he flew above, eyes cast towards the Dream Gate, he knew that the only thing NiGHTS had on his mind now was spending time with his beloved Dreamers, since in the Waking World it was always night-time somewhere, and he wouldn't get anywhere by pestering him until he was ready to figure out the answers himself.

So Owl did the only thing he could think of doing, which was reluctantly returning to his perch and trying his best to relax, even though the embers of his confusion burned brighter than ever before.

* * *

><p>Three-thirty A.M.<p>

In a few hours, it would be morning. The sun would be peaking out between the city buildings, casting halos into the orange grass, and bringing fresh moisture of the ripening sky along with it.

Despite that it was a Saturday, and she was usually allowed to sleep in, Lydia had to get up early. Evangeline would be over to take her shopping for new clothes. She'd already run the heavily edited plan by her father, keeping out the part where she was indeed spending a night in the city with friends. Believing she would just be staying over at Evangeline's house, he said it was fine. He didn't mind her going somewhere and getting her out of his hair for the day. But then again, he also didn't care about the poorly aged food his children were ingesting. The crusty pasta that had nearly twisted her and Michael's stomach inside out was good enough proof of that.

That was her sole worry. If her brother would be okay...alone with their father until Sunday afternoon.

But that's not why she couldn't sleep.

_The nightmares aren't real._ Lydia tried to reassure herself. _They never were. They were always just pictures in my head. They shouldn't scare me so much. But still, I wonder my mind can conjure up such horrid things._

Lydia was beyond exhausted, even though her eyes surprisingly weren't sagging. She was becoming used to the sleep deprivation. She lay there silently, her frizzy hair splayed out in runaway waves across the pillow, and the gray comforter pulled up to her chin, as she stared up at the fan and counted the rotations.

_Two thousand and seventy three. Two thousand and seventy four. Two thousand and seventy five. Two thousand and seventy six._

She suddenly flipped over and grabbed the pillow from underneath, screaming into the cotton. She remained there limply with her face buried for a few minutes.

After a while, Lydia finally turned back over and sniffled. Her eyes stared upwards before drifting to the curtains on the window, as the thin material flowed out with the current of air drafting about. And before she could stop herself, she had pushed the blankets back gently, sat up and moved her legs over the edge, then picked the rest of herself up completely.

She wobbled mindlessly towards the window, her eyes squinting as the lights in the distance seeped through her vision. She made her way to the sill, nightgown blowing around her thighs, and looked straight ahead with an envious gaze.

Bellbridge was lit up in all sorts of spectrum colors, some of the red and white ones that were owned by cars moving through the maze of buildings like tiny insects, other lights blinking in bright neon letters for signs that drew the town towards bars, dances, and all sorts of parties and events. The city was just as alive and awake as she was. It just looked...well...prettier than her.

Her elbow hit the sill and her face leaned into the connected hand with sorrowful defeat.

_If only I didn't need sleep._

_If only I could just go through life with my eyes open all the time. I wouldn't miss a single thing._

Her eyelids started to fall shut. She began to give in to the creeping fatigue.

But that didn't last long.

Because something bright and red caught her attention.

Lydia's eyes lifted tiredly up towards the stars, but widened immediately. The surprise hit her with rampaging strength, and her mouth fell open on cue.

There, appearing at the faraway edge of the atmosphere, a dash of glowing crimson was falling from the sky and dashing towards the city, leaving red sparkles behind in its wake.

Lydia's elbow dropped as she grabbed the edges of the sill and pressed her forehead against the glass, watching intently. Her breath got caught in her throat.

"What is _that_?" she whispered to herself, her eyes following it as it fell lower and lower.

Was it a meteor? A comet? A falling star?

But nothing about it suggested something, or anything relating to space. Nothing about it appeared astrological. No. It looked almost...magical. Like it was out of place for its time and setting.

It was beautiful.

The young girl couldn't bring herself to tear away, or even blink for that matter. She watched the light fall into Bellbridge, between the layered buildings, and waited for the ground to quake from its impact.

But nothing happened.

Not a single sound was heard, and not even the tiniest rumble was felt.

She was stone still for a few seconds, but then ripped away from the window all at once, her hands cupping over her mouth in disbelief.

_Did that just happen?_

_It couldn't have been my imagination. No matter how sleepy I am, that was definitely NOT something made up from my mind._

_It looked too real._

_It was real._

If she thought she was having trouble sleeping before, Lydia knew there was no way she was catching a wink now.

x

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**(A/N) Long chapter is long. Not to mention SLOW. Even I think parts of this had horrendous pacing. But, it's an introduction after all, so please go easy on me.**

**I'm going to put this out right now. This story won't be continued for at least a few months. If I decide I want to work on two stories at once, then maybe I can make time to update. But until then, I want to finish my first story, which is nearly done. In the meantime, tell me what you like, don't like, all critism is favored.**

**Thank you for reading. Stay tuned and if you have time, please review.**


	3. The Star That Nobody Saw

"GRAH!"

Jackle pushed his door open so hard that it slammed against the wall, leaving behind a nearly circular, not so subtly jagged dent from where the knob had penetrated through the plaster from its force. He hovered down the halls with his fists balled and body stiff with rage. Even though his grin was flipped and his eyes remained slanted, the iris color, having been stained with red, was slowly returning to blue as he fought to maintain his usual psychotic composure.

As the pigment dwelled somewhere between purple and navy, he spat curses through his teeth, flying past other neighboring doors that bordered the hallway.

He failed to notice that some were beginning to creak open, and that their owners were cautiously and curiously poking their heads out as the furious Nightmaren trudged by.

"That no good traitor..." Jackle seethed. "That no good dilly dallying hippity hopping happy go lucky annoyingly joyful laughing taunting moronic sack of VOMIT!"

He growled out loud, right as a door opened near him. Completely oblivious to his current surroundings, the jester absent-mindedly evaded it as another Nightmaren, one with feline qualities of the dark blue variety, looked out and watched the Second-Level closely with total confusion, the yellows of his eyes widening.

Some of the other Nightmaren slowly stepped out of their respective chambers, all staring after Jackle's retreating cape, and a few of them shared concerned whispers as their eyes panned after him. Even though he was seemingly the core interest at the moment, some of the creatures were taking notice of how rejuvenated they all felt. But their awe-struck reactions were cut short as Jackle went ranting on not too far from them.

"When I get my hands on him..!" Jackle went on, "Oh...wait until I find him! Because that unloyal little TWIT is in for a world of..-"

"JAAAAAAAACKLEEEEEE!"

Jackle suddenly stopped and pointed his finger up triumphantly, laughing loudly for a second as all previous fury was instantly forgotten. "Ha HA! Yeah! He's in for a world of Jackle! And that is definitely not a world anyone would want to be in!"

He stopped, and looked forward in front of him, finger beginning to droop. "Wait...what did I just...where did that-"

But it was too late for retaliation. A giant, rubbery ball of Nightmaren flesh came flying at him, flopping rabbit ears, plump red lips, bulging spherical cleavage and all.

"JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKLEEEEEEEEE !" she screamed in a piercing opera voice.

Jackle reeled back with a yelp before the womanly Nightmaren pelted him to the ground, using her obesity to her advantage.

"Aah!" Jackle shouted, flailing around a bit, until he looked down and realized his attacker's ridiculously sized breasts were there for him in full view. Upon realizing this, he went limp, lifting a brow with interest, before looking up into the face of someone who was more familiar than he would've desired.

The very someone who blurred the line between love and obsession.

It was all coming back to him. He almost groaned out of instinctive agitation.

It was his self-declared significant other, though Jackle preferred to use the term stalker, Puffy.

"Ohh, Jackle, my sweet, wonderful Jackle!" she shrieked, once again, in obnoxiously high soprano notes. She then began planting smooches all over her beloved Nightmaren's invisible face, much to his disgust.

"I missed you so so much!" she sang in such a high pitch, it was capable of bringing down the very walls that supported the castle. "I thought I'd never see your lovely invisible face again!"

After gaining back some movement, Jackle shoved the woman off with annoyance, sending her bouncing across the floor, and crawled backwards.

"P-Puffs..." Jackle said, using her old pet name while wiping off some of the essence of her lips with the back of his gloved hand.

"I- eugh, I see you're back from the dead as well."

After he got done smearing whatever was left of her off his face, he groaned.

_If there's one thing I don't miss about living, it's her icky spontaneous romance._

Puffy was completely ignorant to her 'partner's lack of consent. She clapped her hands together and giggled.

"I don't know what you mean by 'back from the dead'...but it's not like I care! It's just so great to hear my favorite lunatic's voice again!"

Jackle found such a statement to be nothing short of a compliment. But his arrogance overrode any sort of gratitude. He climbed back into the air, huffing to himself.

"If only I could say the same about you," he said warily.

Suddenly, the large woman neared him, cupping his face tenderly. The Nightmaren tensed up under her touch, expecting to be smothered in her unwanted affection again. But instead, Puffy tilted his head a little back and forth between her fingers, squinting at him.

"Darling, what seems to be wrong with your eyes?"

Jackle blinked. "Wha-my eyes?"

He reached up and prodded with the corner of one of his eye sockets. "I...don't know? What _is_ wrong with them?"

Puffy got a little closer, much to his discomfort.

"They're usually blue, are they not? Because right now they're this strange, kind of gorgeous purple color..."

And that was all it took to send the storm raging again.

Without warning, Jackle struck her across the face, hard, his irises suddenly flickering with magenta. Puffy released him and moved back, seizing both sides of her head protectively as she moaned a little.

"Don't ever mention such a heinous color to me again!" he shouted at her. "And calling it something like _gorgeous_ too?! The nerve!"

She only whimpered and ducked her head and ears in shame, making another quiet noise that was either her wailing or another soprano note. It was undistinguished.

After that, silence fell between the two. The angered Mantle realized that with their lack of conversation, he was suddenly becoming aware of all the whispers erupting behind him. His brows lifted immediately. He flung around just in time to knock a cowering Puffy backwards with his cape, so that she went bouncing around again while trying to control her cries.

The group of conversing Nightmaren quickly paused upon realizing that Jackle had noticed them, a few of them parting away from one another.

"Woah..." Jackle said out loud, his eyes calming once again. "What is all this? Some kind of party?"

He instantly forgot his sour mood and clasped his hands together, laughing with pleasure. "Ah, how exciting! We haven't had parties in ages! I hope I was invited this time!"

The Nightmaren all gawked back at him, shifting slightly annoyed glances.

But the Second-Level lunatic failed to notice.

"After all, you guys always say you lose my invitation in the 'mail'...or whatever, though I don't even know what mail is and-"

"Jackle," a horned piranha suddenly interrupted him, his tail flicking as he hovered in mid-air.

"Still mad as ever, I see."

Jackle paused and looked into the eyes of his old neighbor, realization dawning on him.

"Why, if it isn't Gulpo!"

He then hovered over to the fish's side and casually draped an arm around his scaly shoulder.

"How've you been, buddy?"

But he was instantly shoved away by the fish's fin and gnarled talons as he gargled in annoyance.

"Ohh...out of water, I guess you could say," he said stiffly.

Jackle hopped back and scanned him up and down carefully, his finger tapping against the edge of his mouth.

"Hmm...you're right. And here I thought you couldn't breathe outside of any sort of environment not bubbling in H2O."

The fish chuckled slowly, gradually beginning to seethe with anger.

"Why that's a great observation, Mr. Mantle. Now allow me to enlighten you just a bit further."

His face then flushed with rage, his gills flaring and he shrieked loud enough to cause the caped Maren to wince.

"I CAN'T! I'M A FISH, YOU IDIOT!"

But Jackle only recoiled for a second before invading the fish's personal space once again. He flew up to him, unseen nose to unseen nose, and squinted his eyes in curiosity.

"REALLY? How peculiar!" he declared. "Then how are you here right now?"

Gulpo spoke through clenched teeth.

"I...don't...know..."

Jackle hummed again, this time looking past the piranha and towards the other Nightmaren, most of which had their arms crossed or were tapping their feet as they slowly lost patience in both the Mantle and their own unanswered questions.

Jackle eyed them all as he went silent for a moment, before turning swiftly and pointing straight ahead in an empty direction.

"Well we can't just sit around being stumped. I say we go to Wizeman and ask him what's going on! He might know something about all nonsense, being that he...you know, created us and whatnot. Not to mention the word WISE is kind of IN his name. Hahaha...ahaha...ahh"

All the Nightmaren flinched, after hearing their Master's name be spoken in such an informal manner. Jackle was the only one who addressed him by his name and his name only. They were surprised that the flamboyant madman had yet to be eradicated by their Nightmarish overlord.

Then the winged tadpole Nightmaren, Gillwing, poked out from behind Clawz, his long striped tail coiling behind him like airborne rope.

"But I thought we weren't allowed to meet with Master Wizeman without him summoning us?"

Gulpo's eyes narrowed at him.

"We're not."

But of course, that didn't stop the Nightmare lunatic to fly forward in the direction of Wizeman's throne room, grabbing Puffy's hand in the midst of passing her and yanking her along.

"C'mon, Puffy! Let's pay Wizey a visit! Together!"

And lo, Puffy gave no protest, even though she'd been assaulted by her beloved maniac not too long ago.

The three remaining Nightmaren exchanged worried glances before reluctantly following the two 'lovers', as they had no other option to turn to.

"Sheesh," Clawz said in his sharp, hissing voice.

"We're actually putting faith into this guy. Where's Reala when you need him?"

* * *

><p>It all hit Lydia with a literal blast of noise. One minute, she was sleeping soundly, hidden under the folds of her covers with nothing but her arms poking out and hanging over the edge of the bed. And then the moment her radio alarm struck seven AM, the speakers blared with concentrated voices, and her body popped up with surprise, leading her to roll over only a tad, but just enough to send her tumbling off the mattress altogether.<p>

"Wah!" she gasped after hitting the floor. Luckily, being cocooned inside the blankets proved to be useful. They managed to cushion her blow rather effectively, and it kept her from getting hurt.

The disheveled teenager lay limply for a second, trying to bring her sleepy mind up to comprehension's pace, before finally shifting up and unraveling from the sheets. She sat up with her head exposed, and was greeted by a lash of sunshine from the daylight beyond the window. She quickly shut her eyes and looked away.

_Great, nothing like starting off my Saturday morning with a smack to the ground and being blinded by the stupid sun._

She then turned and squinted back at the glass angrily, watching the curtains blow around it as if they were taunting her.

The sun generally rose from the eastern side of Bellbridge, facing her room head on. She had always kept the curtains pulled back so her enlarged, slumber-ridden pupils wouldn't practically explode from the intense brightness every morning.

She then stopped, still clutching the blanket around her protectively, and her eyebrows lowered.

So why were they open now?

She ran her fingers up the back of her neck and into the matted labyrinth of her hair, trying hard to recollect what had happened the night before.

Why had she been sleeping on the wrong side of the bed? Why were the curtains pulled apart?

And then her hand froze.

She remembered.

The shooting star.

The red shooting star.

She remembered that she had stayed up long after having witnessed the strange magic that had fallen upon her tired eyes...waiting for any kind of sign that something out of the ordinary had really just taken place. She remembered looking back at the sky, searching for more colorful chunks of light, and then towards the city for any indication of disruption.

But she also remembered that after all that waiting, there was nothing to report. Minutes turned into hours. Everything remained normal.

She had stayed up lounging at the foot of the bed, headfirst, looking out the window before giving in to her exhaustion and falling into a deep sleep.

Lydia's hand slowly fell from her scalp as she rose into a wobbly standing position like a broken doll, taking careful steps towards the window. Her tiredness faded, and in its place a new wonder was forming.

In the background, a song on the radio had ended, and the female announcer came on to cluck about the Saturday morning wake-up call, and how the weather in Bellbridge was bright and shining, before the ambiance transitioned into another old-timey love song.

It played, fading in and out of static through the bad reception.

_"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when."_

Lydia's dark eyes were now wide despite the intense brightness of the early Saturday sun as they burned holes right through them. She strode to the window with the sheets still cloaked around her, before leaning forward and peaking out into the blue sky, right in the place where the crimson dash had fallen the night before.

_"But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day."_

She let one side of the sheets fall from her body, and with the hand she used to support it, reached forward and let her palm fall against the thin glass as she took a rocky breath.

_Was it just a dream?_ She pondered to herself.

_No...it couldn't have been a dream._

Her hand slid down with a gradual squeak.

_I never even fell asleep..._

_No, not until after I saw it._

Her lip then twitched slightly when she realized something rather outstanding.

She had gone one night without a single nightmare. Her night had been without fear. In fact, without a single dream.

_"Keep smiling through, just like you, always do,"_

Her eyes wandered back up, watching the sky intently as if in an attempt to pierce through the clouds. As if trying to blow bullet holes through the atmosphere, so she could get a closer look at what lye farther above, and see just what the heck was going on up there. See why the stars would send such a curiosity raining down over her home city.

Lydia knew it hadn't been her imagination. It just couldn't have been. Something about it was too...real. Her mind could never, in a million years, make something that amazing look so believable.

_"'Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds, far away."_

Suddenly, her hand snapped away from the window, and the blankets fell from her completely, lying in a heap around her bare feet.

"What am I doing, I have to get ready," she said out loud to break herself away from the awe and bring her back to reality.

Knowing Evangeline Sawyer, who was notorious for being an early bird, she was probably on her way already.

Lydia quickly hopped over the sheets and scurried to the closet, carefully stepping over the crumpled clutters of papers that littered the floor. A select few of the canvases were just splattered in smudgy math equations from outdated homework, while others had something a bit more heartfelt scrabbled onto them.

They were her drawings. Her mind's thoughts and figurines, stamped down on notebook paper and shaded until the gray was bleeding off of them. They were Lydia's only way of keeping sane with what she had to endure on a somewhat regular basis, as they took her mind to a calmer, more beautiful place.

Most of them had been done in the heat of her fiery emotions, which usually happened right after fights with her father. It was then that they actually meant something to her. But as of now, where she was just impatient and in a hurry to get ready, they were simple scraps of junk.

Lydia made her way to the closet, and with a rush of her bony arms, quickly sifted through the cheap material of her hanging shirts, until she got her hands on a beige jumper she wore a little too frequently. After throwing it over her shoulder to keep it supported, she pulled out of the closet and went prying through her wooden dresser in search of a denim skirt.

_I have to ask Evangeline about the star._

By now she had tugged on her clothes and was in the middle of peeling a pair of white knee-high socks over her legs, when she paused and briefly looked at the window yet again.

_She may have not been awake around the time it fell, but it's worth a shot. Not to mention she has access to the internet on her phone. There might have been an article about it on the daily news._

She frowned to herself after jamming some Mary Jane's onto her stubby feet.

_I know I can't be the only one that saw it. There's just no way._

After having dressed herself, Lydia tread over to the next-door bathroom, flicking the light on and examining herself closely in the mirror.

Her hair was about the same shade as dirty, damp sand. So with the hue, as of now, her wavy locks looked like that of a wild tumbleweed.

After battling it with a hairbrush, and scraping the bristles of her old toothbrush over her teeth and tongue, she heard an obnoxious honking noise go off from outside.

Beep, beep!

Lydia sighed to herself.

_Yup. That's probably Evangeline and her mom here to get me already._

She threw everything down over the sink, giving her reflection one final dissatisfied glance before turning and speeding out the bedroom door.

Down the hall she ran, turning corners, and tearing down the stairs and into the foyer, where no light shone except that from the windows lining the front door. Everything else was bathed in shadow.

She reached for the handle and placed a hand over it.

But then thick fingers clamped down around her shoulder.

"Hey,"

Lydia gasped and spun around in surprise, her hair whipping against the figure that stood before her.

There her father stood, his face firm, eye bags dragging down to his square jawline, with a tight scowl twisting over his terribly chapped lips .

His daughter realized it was him thanks to the grid-pattered light on his features, and glared back at him, suddenly annoyed at the fact that he had grabbed her so harshly. However, she could see that her hard expression clearly wasn't fazing him. But why would it? He was used to being roughly physical, and also her disapproving stares.

His opposite hand then raised, where the crusted ridges of his palm were closed in around her cellphone. Lydia's eyes moved to it and her brows furrowed.

"Won't you be needing this?" he asked in an almost sly undertone. "Just in case I need to reach you?"

She blinked slowly at him, as if to silently accentuate her frustration. She knew to carefully use her words. It was too early to send him over the edge with a hasty comment. Not that any time could ever be considered a good time to do such a thing.

She reached forward and took the device from him, before tugging the door open and shrugging his grip away. Not a single word fell from her mouth. No comments, or questions, or even a goodbye.

As she stepped into the dry, somewhat chilly air of the outside world, she paused at the porch and looked down at the phone in her hands, before turning and shooting her father a serious look over her shoulder.

"You be nice to Michael," she said solidly, refraining from adding an almost desperate 'please' at the end.

Indeed. She felt a bit guilty leaving her younger brother alone with their dad. Even if it was only for one day.

But at the same time she felt she deserved a night away from the both of them. After all, she endured a lot for Michael's sake. He was always cowering behind her and letting her take the blows that he, more often than not, was the one to cause.

So she was allowed to be selfish just this once...right?

Her father chuckled to himself as she walked out and cut across the yard. She was able to pick up his gritty, dirty laugh, and it made her ears burn.

She tried her hardest to turn her attention away from the vile man. Instead she focused on the blue Mercedes-Benz parked by the curb of her house, where the engine was still churning, and her best friend was waving to her from the driver's seat.

_Wait...what._

Evangeline was the one at the wheel. So this would mean she had driven to get Lydia alone. Without parental guidance.

But Lydia didn't seem to care.

She crossed through the grass as it tickled her bare ankles, climbed inside the car, slammed the door shut behind her, and collapsed against the seat.

"Aha! Well, good morning to you too, beautiful!" Evangeline declared, shifting the gears back into Drive.

Lydia's head lolled over to look at the bubbly redhead. Her crimson hair was pulled back in a high, doughnut bun, two lone, styled strands hanging on either side of her face. Her eyes were shielded by dark, square sunglasses.

Lydia still didn't think to say good morning to her.

"Since when do you drive...?" she asked plainly.

Evangeline giggled. "Oh, since yesterday! Isn't it awesome? I'm glad you noticed! I finally passed my driver's test and now I'm a licensed driver!"

The car started to roll forward. Lydia turned her head back over and watched the house start to move away. The more distance that was covered, the more her mind began to ease.

"Well, aren't you excited for me? Everyone else is!" Evangeline laughed, flicking her blinker on as she neared the end of Red Orchid Drive.

Lydia was silent. She gave no proud exclamation or verbal applause. She just stared straight ahead.

Evangeline turned over and eyed her for a moment. "You're awfully quiet today. Is everything alright?"

And that question alone made Lydia instantly remember what she'd seen the previous night. How come she kept forgetting?

She opened her mouth to speak.

"Evangeline, I saw something last night."

She swallowed to soothe her drying throat.

"And I think it was something fascinating."

* * *

><p>Air.<p>

Reala felt light as air.

No, he felt even lighter.

He could no longer feel pressure, or any type of matter, tugging at his body. The weight of the universe lifted, and it left him feeling...slightly unreal.

Everything held such a faint sensation, like he was on the verge of disappearing from existence.

He remembered falling...shooting like a comet into the turquoise depths of that marble from earlier.

The speed and heat had overwhelmed him, and before he could prepare himself for what he could only assume was finally his death, he lost consciousness. Which again, was something he didn't think Nightmaren could do. It was not something they should do. And yet he had done it twice now. Possibly three times.

His eyes opened ever so slightly, but all that he saw was black.

All he heard was distant mumbling.

And then the sound of wind rushing.

He could feel himself sinking now, deeper and deeper as the distorted audio faded away.

And his eyes shut yet again.

* * *

><p>"A red shooting star, you say?"<p>

Lydia slumped even further into the seat, mindlessly combing her fingers through her hair. She gave no quick response to her friend's question, since it seemed rhetorical with the way she put it.

Evangeline flicked her eyes in Lydia's direction before turning them back to the road as she guided them carefully through the traffic along the bridge that led into the city, where Evangeline's house sat amongst the other wealthy lots in a fancy neighborhood. That neighborhood was Aquamarine Acres. Though, despite the name, there was not a spare acre consisting of something other than buildings in sight. And frankly, nothing aquamarine either.

Except the sky. But, they shared that with the poor people too.

"Well besides being the same color as my glorious mane, what other traits did this star have?" she asked almost jokingly.

Lydia didn't even smile. She looked out the car window and up towards the sky, even though the structure of the bridge mostly broke apart her view.

"I don't know," she said in a serious tone. "I've never seen a falling star, but I feel like what I saw was not it. Like it was something...I don't know, more?"

She finally eyed Evangeline from her seat, her face full of intensity.

"For example, aren't most stars...I mean...they look like a bright ball of light? Right? With a tail streaming from behind or something?"

Evangeline nodded. "Yes, that's the general idea."

Lydia then turned and looked down at her lap, where her hands sat folded over her phone. "This wasn't like that. It was just a...dash. A very bright, very vividly red dash."

The redheaded driver just shrugged. "I dunno. Perhaps it was a chip of a meteor? Those tend to fall down to Earth from time to time, but of course they eventually disintegrate and-"

"But it DIDN'T disintegrate!" Lydia said more loudly and with passion, whipping around to face Evangeline once again. She was greeted by a stunned, and somewhat uneasy expression from her friend.

"It didn't break apart, no it didn't do anything like that," she continued. "It fell into the city. I could see its light printing onto the surrounding buildings, and then it...I don't know went straight through the ground, because there was no quake or any sort of effect afterwards. It just came and went like a bloody ghost!"

Evangeline sighed, finally maneuvering herself out of the traffic and rolling down a few more sunlit streets.

"Don't get all worked up, Lyds. I'm sorry, I don't know what to tell you. None of my other friends have mentioned it to me, and there's no word of it from the media. Perhaps everyone was just asleep."

"Not everyone," Lydia grumbled. "I wasn't."

She crossed her arms and breathed out to calm herself down.

"Someone had to have been awake. From what I could see, Bellbridge was _very_ awake. In fact, someone from that viewpoint, someone within the city should've caught a better look than me. Someone had to have noticed it, period."

Now they were both nearing Aquamarine Acres. The polished white houses and elegantly sculpted gardens were bleeding into view.

"Might I ask why it's so important to you?" Evangeline asked. "Like, I hate to burst your bubble, but things falling from space isn't exactly...you know, an ultra rare thing. So why do you seem so...invested in this star of yours that you just so happened to be the only one who saw?"

Lydia's eyes panned upwards, against the gravity of her own under-eye bags.

"Because...this _wasn't_ a star, Evangeline. I can at least conclude that. I just know it wasn't. And I want to know what it was. It infuriates me...that there's no one around to help me figure out what it was or where it came from because...well...nobody else saw it."

Evangeline could tell Lydia was getting bitter, so she figured it would be best to drop the subject.

"I didn't realize it meant that much to you. My apologies, Lyds. I wish I could help somehow."

Her fingers tightened around the wheel and her pearly white smile returned.

"Well, look at it this way. This might not be the last time you see it. Who knows, maybe you'll see it again tonight, while we all out partying and having fun together at the club. And then you can show us, and we can all goggle over it like lunatics. Like good ol friends. How's that sound?"

Lydia's arrogance was suddenly shadowed over, as her friend's positive outlook instantly rubbed off on her. She couldn't help but smirk at the artificial redhead's attitude. What she saw last night was important to her, yes, but she wouldn't let her raging curiosity spoil the night for her. She had to learn to let go.

"Sounds perfect, Evangeline. Sounds..._perfect,_" she said, smiling genuinely for the first time that day.

* * *

><p>"Jackle, keehehehee, Jackle please slow down!"<p>

Poor Puffy was being knocked from wall from wall, helpless against her own rubbery rebounding body as Jackle carelessly swerved around through the narrow halls whilst dragging her behind. The other three Nightmaren cautiously followed at a much slower pace than that of the overly-energetic Mantle, their worries beginning to thicken.

In the middle of their flight, Clawz elbowed Gulpo in his gills, grabbing his attention at once.

"This is a very bad idea," he hissed, much like a feline would. "I'm not the only one who realizes this, right?"

Gulpo nodded. "Definitely not. I think it's quite clear the talking blanket has lost his mind," he said, eyeing Jackle with agitation.

Gillwing sped up so that he was hovering at the fish's other side.

"More like he lost it a long time ago," he whispered. "But disregarding that, I must ask, why should _we_ have to pay for his idiocy?"

Clawz looked forward, his red irises slitting in agitation.

"We shouldn't. Master Wizeman will surely punish us all for entering his chambers uninvited. And it isn't our fault Jackle has invisible brains to match his invisible head. Because if he had any ounce of intelligence, he'd see that doing this is signing a death wish."

Gillwing rolled his eyes and continued flying forward in a wave-like motion.

"Well we do need to know what's going on here. Something is going on, after all, and maybe our Master will be the only one who can inform us of what we're missing."

And then they were all silenced by the lunatic himself calling back to them.

"Hey, slow pokes! Have you even _tried_ keeping up with me?"

But then his view was blocked by Puffy's round body.

"I've kept up with you, my dear!" she sang out, her ears falling limp and her cheeks bulging in a big lipped smile, as if the female Maren really expected undeserved praise.

And yet, all she got was Jackle laughing and yanking her along even harder.

And before they knew it, they were all outside Wizeman's door.

Everyone came to a screeching halt in mid-air, and a heavy silence fell upon the five Nightmarish creatures.

Jackle's grasp on Puffy's wrist fell, as he slowly inched closer to the large, black iron door, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

And then, without warning, he started banging a fist against the door's metal surface.

Everyone coiled away in shock at how loud and intrusive he was being.

"Jackle!" Gulpo gasped, cowering away from the sealed opening as if it might explode. Which was very possible, given their Master's power.

"Are you mad?!"

Jackle cackled. "Hah! As if that's even a question."

He banged his hand against the door again, this time calling out to whoever was inside.

"Hellooooo! Wizey-man? Anyone in there?"

No response.

So Jackle did what he figured was inevitable, and reached for the handle.

Everyone froze and emitted a harmony of frightened squeaks.

"No, Jackle, stop!" Gulpo exclaimed.

"This isn't the way to do it!" Gillwing added quickly, his tail ringing around itself in a reflex of self defense.

"You'll get us all killed!" Clawz said through gritted fangs.

"Swing that door open like you mean it, honey!" Puffy shouted in encouragement.

Nonetheless, Jackle ignored all of them and went along with his own instinct, which commanded that he open the door and take a look inside.

The iron creaked open. Everyone slammed their eyes shut and turned away in fear, except for Puffy, who remained the only one supportive of Jackle's every decision, whilst remaining hidden behind his shoulder in slight reluctance.

Jackle wandered inside like a curious child, and eyed the throne placed right in front of him.

Everything looked the same. The gray and black colors melting off the walls in a clashing stream, the luminescent candles that lined the area, lit in cerulean flames, and then the large throne...Wizeman's throne, made entirely of lit prisms, not consisting of any real matter.

Only one thing was off.

Wizeman was gone.

His throne was completely empty.

Everyone slowly shuffled in upon realizing that there was no angry God of Nightmare there to deliver heavy wrath on them because of their intrusion. When they all saw that he was absent, they became both relieved, but then even more uncertain than before.

"What's this? Where has our Master gone?" Gillwing said innocently, flying dangerously close to the throne as it no longer held a fearsome inhabitant who could blow him to chunks at the snap of his thirty fingers.

"He never leaves the castle unless he has..._business_ to take care of," Gulpo said, frozen in the air with a stunned expression. "Unless...he's disappeared for an alternative reason."

"Huh. You don't suppose he's...he's..." Clawz said, his voice falling into a velvety whisper as his last words died off into nothing.

So Jackle finished for him.

"Dead."

Everyone turned and looked at him.

Puffy crept up closer to him slowly, eerily, no longer singing, and instead her voice cracked like she was about to sob.

"What? You mean...our Master is-"

"Why yes, Puffs! Yes, I do mean that!" Jackle declared, suddenly lively again. "I think...it's true! That's he's dead! He's gone! There's no other explanation as to why his room would be abandoned. And it's not exactly a stretch of the imagination, given the circumstances."

He flew up to the throne and poked at the long arm rest. A little white spark flickered under his touch.

"After all, we were all dead before awakening in our rooms."

That statement sent murmurs rocketing all over the room.

Clawz was the only one who remained silent and looked Jackle dead in the eye.

"What are you talking about? How do you know all this? And how do you know that Master Wizeman is possibly...dead?" he asked, speaking the last word with a flinch as though it pained him.

Everyone stopped and set the attention solely on him, waiting for his response.

And of course, Jackle had one.

With a sly grin, his blue eyes turned purple for a second. He flew above the other Nightmaren, as if to exert his dominance over them. They were obviously clueless. And now they were turning to him for answers. It gave him a sense of authority.

"I can answer all three of those questions with one word."

He then crossed his arms, hissing the word like it was a curse.

"NiGHTS."

The other Nightmaren blinked back at him.

"Huh? NiGHTS?" Gulpo asked. "You mean that First-Level that left Nightmare a long, long time ago?"

"Yes, him," Jackle said slowly and hotly, as he slowly refilled with the anger from before.

"You must be joking. Do none of you remember what he did? What he did to all of us, and apparently to our creator as well?"

His eyes then fixed themselves hungrily on the throne.

"Why, he killed all of us. I knew that much, and was hoping Wizeman could fill in more of the blanks so that it all comes together at last. But as of now, only one piece of information is sticking to the wall. And that is, ladies and gentlemen, tonight, we were _reborn_."

Puffy suddenly screamed.

"WHAT?!" she shouted in a high, nearly off-key note. "W-we were dead? How can you be so certain-"

"Because unlike you guys, I remember everything! And I know why this here giant chair is empty!" he said, gesturing back to Wizeman's throne. "And until then, since I seem to have knowledge beyond any of you, I declare myself as the leader, until we come up with a more adequate system!"

He then turned and let his bottom fall against the seat of the throne, his his head leaning back against his intersecting claws, and he looked down at them with a mischievous grin.

"And my first royal decree, is that we get revenge on the purple menace. We find him,"

his irises then became the searing tint of lava, all in a matter of one second.

"And we kill him."

Clawz looked at the others before shooting Jackle a suspicious glare.

"Wait, but what about Reala?" he asked. "He _is_ the one who rules over the Nightmaren Army. He was the one second in command. Shouldn't we leave this up to him?"

Jackle's eyes softened to blue again, and he moved his transparent arms forward, interlocking them and then wearing a childish pout.

"Oh yeah, Reala. I almost forgot about that guy."

He then shrugged and flew towards his comrades.

"Hmmm. I guess we can try to look for him. But until then, I'm in charge."

Nobody said anything in protest. Mostly because nobody was in the mood to take his ramblings seriously.

Jackle then bolted out the door, waiting for the others to follow.

"Alright then, lads, let's get to work!"

**(A/N) Chapter is a bit rushed. It's 5 AM and I just want to be done with it. I might come back and re-edit later. My cousin also keeps trying to read it, but she's ten, I don't think she'll understand a thing that's going on. Haha, even if she has played NiGHTS, the HD release.**

**It's much shorter than I wanted it to be, but I'm so ready to update my stories. The parts that I left out will be in the next chapter. Hopefully I won't keep doing this, because then the story will have a LOT of chapters.**

**I'm actually wanting to write a book based around Lavender Light. I have the whole story planned out in my head. I just want to spill it into the real world before I have a chance to die. It's very important to me.**

**Please leave a review with your critique, and thank you for reading.**


	4. Ripped Dimensions

Just as expected, there was not a single soul present in Reala's quarters. The prying group of Nightmaren all paused and scanned the area for any signs or even residue of existing life. But there was nothing between the littered trails of magenta smoke twirling along the tiled floor, and the only other face besides theirs was the large, distorted version of Reala's head on the ceiling glaring at them as if infuriated with their trespassing.

Clawz was the first to break the silence with a twinge of imminent annoyance in his voice. "Well, what do you know. This room is just as empty as Master Wizeman's room. Right along with Jackle's head."

The insult was mere vapor to Jackle as he flew upwards and hovered in a circular path around Reala's throne, rubbing his transparent chin between his thumb and index finger. "How very interesting. There's no essence of Reala left here at all. Not even the smallest sensation of warmth. Not only is he gone, but he's clearly been gone for a very long time. This could only suggest that Reala must be dead too!"

Gillwing growled. "Great. There you go again, confusing absences with eradication. How many times can you be an idiot in one Earth night? Just because Reala isn't here doesn't mean he's been murdered by the traitor too. It's obvious you have your own personal vendetta and lack any proof for your accusations, so I don't know why we ever thought to listen to you in the first place. Besides, we aren't even supposed to be in here. It's incredibly disrespectful to enter a fellow Maren's room without being permitted. Although we did enter our Master's throne room without his permission, so I guess that ship has sailed."

"And apparently taken Master Wizeman and Reala along with it," Gulpo said under his sour breath. Of course, for some it was never too soon for jokes, be they very poor jokes. "I know rationality is out of our nature, but let's be smart about this. Why are we pinning deaths onto NiGHTS? I doubt he would have the power to slay Reala AND Master Wizeman. Also, what if he's dead too? I mean if Reala and our Master have disappeared, he might have perished along with them. Or maybe none of them are dead and they're only missing. There's no way we can be sure."

Gillwing bounced his slimy shoulders once, snapping a few threads of mucus. "All I know is Reala would outright kill us for being in here just the same as Master Wizeman would in the previous situation. The Nightmaren Leader is possessive of his belongings, selfish about his space, and will snap at any sort of defiance. If they both come back and find out what we've been up to, this place will become a graveyard before any of us get answers."

Despite his two leaders' disturbing absences, Jackle was not struck by concern and felt no remorse nor worry, but rather incredible temptation to plop right down into Reala's seat and pretend to be the governor. He instead resisted and made his way towards the exit, ushering the others in the same direction. Once they had all shuffled back out into the hall and shut the door behind them, Puffy, who lingered closely to the Mantle, finally cried out and yanked at her hot pink ears in exasperation.

"No more fighting, everyone! No more disagreements! We really should listen to Jackle from here on out," she declared in a variety of choir voices. "Without him, we have no order. With Wizeman and Reala gone, our way of functioning would crumble. And Jackle is the only one with a memory."

She looked back towards her beloved with twinkling eyes. "And you say it was NiGHTS who was behind all this, right my dear?"

Jackle nodded once, the mentioning of the traitor's name causing his irises to ignite once more. By this point everyone had noticed the Maren's odd, color-shifting eyes, but no one made an effort to mention it out loud. This was Nightmare. Stranger things had happened. Plus there were more important things to worry about.

"Well I guess the only way to find out is to confront this treacherous First-Level once and for all," Clawz said. "That is if, given the circumstances, he's even alive. Word has it he's usually hanging around the Entrance, offering to meld spirits with Visitors, flying around the Dream Gate collecting useless Drops, or some sappy cinematic mush like that."

"Actually, that's not a bad idea. But the Dream Gate is _bleh_. So _happy_ and _pure._ I wouldn't want wish that place on my worst enemy. Therefore, I hereby nominate Gulpo to go to forth and handle this confrontation with NiGHTS himself," Gillwing announced, flicking his tail upwards.

All was quiet for a moment. But after the realization sank in, Gulpo, clearly offended by this, spun around to face the nominator and knocked Puffy aside with his fin in the process.

"_Me_ go to the Dream Gate? That, I am most certainly NOT okay with!" he shouted hastily, bearing the wiry porcelain teeth that lined his jaw. "I want absolutely nothing to do with that disgusting place. No way, I refuse!"

"Oh yeah? Well what if I order you to?" Jackle tested, smirking triumphantly as he sauntered into the fish Maren's line of sight. But Gulpo's resistance didn't falter. He instead butted heads with the cloaked Second-Level and sustained a deep gurgling in the back of his throat.

"I ought to liquefy you for even thinking you have the power to tell me what to do," the airborne fish threatened without shame. "You are not my Master. And you're the only one here who has issues with NiGHTS. You're the lunatic who swears that he has something to do with our Master's, and now Reala's disappearance. So you go do it, Mr. High and Mighty. Don't drag me into this."

Jackle's bravery kept him anchored in place. He grinned slyly before flying a few inches above the water-dependent creature and glared down at him, exerting his superiority.

"I may lack proper sanity, but I do have my memory. And that alone is the reason why I should stay behind, just in case Wizeman does return and I can bring all my recollections to his attention. Come on now. You wouldn't want to be the one who insisted I do all the work, and in doing so deprive our Master of any knowledge that his creations ceased to exist not to long ago, would you?"

Gulpo wasn't too convinced that their Master would return in the short time that he was gone, aimlessly hunting for purple clowns. But he knew arguing with a psychopath was pointless, especially since he had no one on his side to come to his defense. Without any sort of final remark, he angrily turned and swam off, gone from Jackle's presence in an instant, and headed towards the front entrance of Nightmare Castle.

Jackle's eyes flickered with delight. He could definitely get used to having this rule over his comrades.

* * *

><p><em>And so it has begun.<em>

These were Lydia's initial thoughts upon crossing her best friend's manicured garden and entering the pretentious mansion she lived in with her rich parents and spoiled siblings. They were her thoughts as she climbed the ivory staircase and entered Evangeline's room, complete with every fancy decor known to man and all coated in white plush, where Shannon and Molly were waiting expectantly to dress her down and glam her up like she were a doll. These were her thoughts as Molly, who was already dressed for the evening in store, reached for a pair of floral tweezers and began poking at the edges of Lydia's eyebrows.

Molly's black hair was pulled back in a loose bun, with stray curls framing her olive features. Her makeup was dark and Gaudy, her dress as flashy as a fabric disco-ball. It printed small white flicks all over the room when the sunset burned orange light onto the quad of English minors who, in Lydia's eyes, were struggling to look double their actual age.

Shannon watched from afar. Her features were much more subtle, and her gown was shorter than Molly's and a silky bronze, pooling at her folded knees like liquid. Her amber eyes and brunette hair were set aflame by daylight, and come nocturnal hours became set in a mysterious aura, like they possessed the untamed spirit of a golden wolf.

In Lydia's opinion, Evangeline was by far the most beautiful of the bunch. Her dress was fluffy and white, with a large bow secure around her thin waist. There was less attention on her makeup and more on her blazing hair, which she was now fumigating in liters of strawberry-scented hairspray.

Lydia's attention strayed the moment she felt Molly begin weeding her face.

"Oh, give me a break. It's not that bad. Stop your moving," Molly said calmly as Lydia cringed away from what she kept repeatedly calling a pinchy torture device. "I'm just going to clean up your brows. They have a lovely angle that's hidden in the excessive hairs. Sometimes it hurts to look good."

"Well you know what? If I was intended to have ninety degree eyebrows, I think they'd have been sculpted that way from the start," Lydia scowled, jumping at the quick sting as each individual stand of brow hair was yanked from the root. "Ouch!"

Molly laughed and pulled the closed tweezers back, examining the hair at the end as if it'd been extracted from a petri dish. "I wouldn't say right angle. These are more of an obtuse."

"You're an obtuse."

"Why thank you, Lydia Archibold."

Lydia rolled her eyes and flinched as the needle prick sensations came and went along the space under her glossy forehead. "This isn't even make-up. Make-up is supposed to add to your appearance, not take away from it one small increment at a time. This is a crime. This is the torture you use on prisoners to get them to talk."

In the background, Shannon powdered the dark apples of her cinnamon colored skin sans mirror, and Evangeline was pinning her scarlet fringe back, fluffing it up with her fingers. Her gray eyes locked with Lydia's for a second and she cackled in amusement.

"Lydia, you never fail to be the world's biggest baby."

The scrawny female crossed her arms and pouted in response. "You just leave me alone. You're lucky I even agreed to this. Though I never really-ow! Hey, be careful! I'd like to have some hair left over so I don't look like a bloody meth addict when you've finished!"

After the tweezing of the eyebrows and the unnecessary caking of foundation into the skin, Molly proceeded to lightly dust Lydia's features with a powder puff, and then reached into her little bag of wonders and revealed a palette of eye-shadow, every compartment filled with different shades of purple.

"You know, we probably would have done all this anyway, whether we had your permission or not," she stated innocently.

Lydia lifted one of her throbbing brows, ignoring her and zeroing in on the palette. "Oh, and I suppose you're using those particular colors for my eyes?"

Molly nodded. "Precisely. It's a universal fact that purple is the best shade for bringing out brown eyes. And since yours are dark as well, I can pull off the smokey effect without it looking too over-bearing."

Lydia leaned away in uncertainty. "Over-bearing? It's purple. Regardless won't I just look like someone punched me in the socket?"

Molly sighed and snapped open the glass cover, smearing her brush into a creamy square. "Not if you manage to do it correctly. Besides, this isn't purple. Specifically it's lavender. It should be fairly tame."

Once Lydia could see the heavy amount of color at the tip of the wand, and felt it swipe across the crease of her eyelid, her throat swelled up.

"Oh please, do calm down. I'm going so easy on you," Molly said, possibly in an attempt to comfort a fidgety Lydia. "Besides, we haven't even gotten to eyeliner or mascara, and those are always my favorite parts because they work like magic, making your whole face just pop! Remember though, whatever you do, don't open your eyes. And try not to move too much. It'll be over before you know it."

Lydia sighed. "I sure hope you're right, I've been saying that to myself for the past hour."

"It's only been twenty minutes."

"Oh. Well just let me know when my face has popped."

"You think this is rough. Just wait until I get my claws on that wild mass of hair," Shannon called from her spot on the bed, laughing at the look of disdain clouding Lydia's face.

"Oh dear. End me, please," she begged the cosmetic artist in a dramatic whisper. "Just end me right now."

Molly giggled sweetly. "We're doing this for your own good, Lydia. I promise."

Somehow, Lydia remained far from convinced.

* * *

><p>NiGHTS watched as the pale-haired child wandered out the Gate's entryway, standing on his tip-toes and looking towards the distance with innocent curiosity. A woman's voice faintly echoed back to him, calling his name. He'd heard it once, and then twice. His green eyes widened.<p>

The jester smiled. He had just finished greeting the unsuspecting Visitor and teaching him the concept of Dualization. For the short time they'd spent together, the child relatively enjoyed himself, what with ascending towards the starry sky, nabbing at various Dream Drops burrowed in the thick grass. Owl even watched on pleasantly, content that things were back to the way they were, if not better than before.

But now, wherever the Visitor had come from, it was morning, and his parents were calling him down to his breakfast.

Though NiGHTS would more than likely never see this particular boy again, especially since he lacked a yellow ideya which would've secured his memories of Nightopia, he knew the experience, no matter the length, was important and memorable for the both of them. The boy glanced back towards him, explained in French that he had to depart as his mother was waiting for him to awaken, and with a somber wave, left with an already doomed promise that he'd one day return.

Both NiGHTS and Owl returned the bidding before the Visitor's essence disintegrated into white embers and flickered outwards towards the sky. He was back in his own world, and now they were left alone in theirs.

NiGHTS sighed. Now he remembered why he missed doing this so much. This was what he was born to do, whether his creator intended for such a destiny or not. Now all there was left to do was wait for the next Dreamer to stumble into the gate with empty expectations, so they could play the adventure out again.

But after only a few minutes, NiGHTS eyes flew open, his eyelashes twitching as the pupils rolled left and right. He brought his intersected arms out from behind his head and floated upright, glaring between the shadows of the forest that descended into the direction of what used to be Nightmare.

Something felt wrong. His ideya crystal hummed and emitted a quick nip of crimson light. It caught his attention immediately.

Owl noticed how NiGHTS was suddenly alert, and shot him a questioning look from his perch. "What seems to be the problem? Did you hear something? See something?"

Without saying a single word, the jester, who was normally known for his kind and playful nature, bore his teeth angrily, his irises quickly becoming venomous lagoons. And just like that, he shot forward into the woods at a furious speed.

Owl nearly lost his balance due to the Nightmaren's sudden outburst. His small eyes followed the trail of sparkles that darted between the trees where NiGHTS had flown through, until every last particle had faded away into the crisp evergreen brush, and only a faintly blowing wind indicated that he had ever been there in the first place.

"NiGHTS! Wait! Where are you going?! Don't just leave me!" Owl cried out helplessly, lifting his pudgy body and flying up,carefully searching the forest to see if he could make out his friend's slender frame. But instead, he discovered something horrible brewing far off in the distance beyond the Dark Ocean. A gasp wheeled its way out of his beak.

Nightmare Castle.

The sky behind it was red as malice, residing in the center of an immortal sunset. Each window burned like orange stones, with distorted silhouettes bordering the grounds. Owl became disoriented.

"Oh dear...oh no..." he warbled, a strike of fear hitting him at his core. "Nightmare...last time I saw it, it was completely shut down. Why has it lit up again? Why is that part of the Dream World so dark and unforgiving once more?! Oh no...Nightmare must have come back to life!"

He looked toward the forest once again, his feathers pricking outwards as he dove down and neared the maze of branches.

"NiGHTS! Come back this instant! Something terrible has happened! You must see!" he called desperately. Though, the elderly bird hated to admit that he himself wasn't entirely sure what it was that had happened, or was in fact happening right now. It was true, the castle had been previously left in a dark, undisturbed stasis. The fact that it was churning with life now was incredibly upsetting, and unusual. Owl quickly felt like he and the Night Dimension were no longer safe.

That's when it dawned on him.

Maybe NiGHTS already knew that there was trouble afoot. And that's why he'd left so swiftly.

The old bird sank down to the ground like a sheet of paper. His anxiety was boiling over.

"No, we can't do this again, we can't have something like Wizeman happen again! It was supposed to be over forever!"

He then shuddered. "But I get the feeling that, regrettably, it may have only just begun."

His heart then began to ache.

Perhaps NiGHTS wasn't the only one to have returned after all.

* * *

><p>"Stop! Get away from me with that thing!"<p>

"Oh, nonsense, Lydia. It's not so bad," Shannon cooed, clamping the iron straightener over and over again tauntingly like it were two gnashing jaws. The blades sizzled against one another, the smell of burnt conditioner filled the room. Lydia scrambled across the wood floor and dove under Evangeline's bed. Everyone giggled.

"You're going to set my head on fire!" she accused the stylist from beneath the mattress. "That thing is a weapon!"

Both Shannon and Molly were doubling over and trembling with laughter. Evangeline seemed to be the only one to notice that her timid friend wasn't being overly dramatic for kicks. She was genuinely scared, as this was all foreign to her.

"Come now, Lydia. She's just going to straighten your hair. The texture of it is like wool, after all. She'll make it soft and shiny for you! Eliminate every last knot!"

Lydia's face poked out so that the bed skirt draped over like a hood on her scalp. Her eyes were lined with black and splashed in hints of lavender. But the shadows cast from her position obscured most of her face and made them look dark and full of regret.

"Evangeline, my hair is just like how my mother's was."

Everyone immediately tensed at the mentioning of Lydia's mom. She dismissed the sudden shift in atmosphere and continued, slightly annoyed.

"My point is that this is all genetics. It's not like I just take poor care of myself. So a hairbrush and some steaming iron isn't going to make it all okay."

Shannon's shoulders slumped and she knelt down. "You'd be surprised with how far technology has come. You're right, what I'm going to do will only be temporary, but it will still be a nice, nightly transformation. You'll never know unless you give it a shot."

A small pouting session ensued, until the traumatized teenager rolled out from under the bed with a heavy breath, nodding once.

"Please, just make it as fast and painless as possible. Things like this make me uncomfortable."

Shannon smiled and flicked her finger along the straightener's dial, bumping up the temperature. A beep sounded and Lydia flinched.

"I promise that won't be a problem."

* * *

><p>Gulpo swirled his scaly body through the forest. He knew he'd officially entered Nightopia when he the outcries and dainty little pointing fingers of nearby Nightopians was cued. Their scrambling bodies collided in a panic all around him, tangling halos and buzzing about with their flickering pink wings. Every single one of their chirping and squeals for help were like plunging needles to the ear. He would've gladly chewed them all up to glittering dream bits if he had the energy, or the time. But he centered his fuming senses solely on finding the Nightmaren traitor and drilling any necessary information out of him.<p>

_Oh, just wait until I get my fins on you! It's your fault I'm even in this mess!_

Any hint of purple drew the fish Maren in all sorts of various directions until he could've sworn he was swimming in circles. The state of the forest was so ambiguous that it was easy to get lost and repeat paths. His only compass was the sun settled behind Nightmare Castle, and that kept his attention pointed East.

Just as he reached the brink of giving up, the exasperated Second-Level was suddenly thrown off track by a disturbingly calm, and borderline alluring voice.

"Are you lost?"

Gulpo spun instantly and was met with the cerulean eyes of NiGHTS himself. The Nightmaren was hovering with his arms crossed expectantly. Seeing his face struck a strange chord within the Nightmarish marine, and for a moment he forgot his tempted defiance against Jackle. Everything in him was now crackling with fury.

"NiGHTS!" He shouted, nearing the First-Level with careful precision. "I've been looking all over for you, you dirty rotten filth! I'm glad that you at least saved me the trouble of locating that rubbish Dream Gate. Now tell me, what is the meaning of all this?! Our Master is gone. Reala is gone. What have you done with them?! I demand an explanation right now!"

NiGHTS glared back at him, a dangerous smirk playing at his rubbery mouth.

"Oh, well it's nice to see you too, Gulpo. Fancy meeting you here. I thought you were dead."

"You mean you thought you _killed_ me, right?"

The playfulness vanished from the violet Nightmaren's face. Gulpo's eyes widened to their full extent.

"I see that seemed to knock a little seriousness right into you. You did kill me, didn't you. Jackle was telling the truth after all."

"Jackle, you say?"

NiGHTS reared back a little, slightly disoriented. "Oh gosh. He's alive as well? How is that even possible? I'd finished him off long ago. This really is an interesting situation. I'm really not looking forward to dealing with him or his _cards_ again."

Gulpo couldn't believe what he was hearing. NiGHTS really had done away with them all, and he was not the slightest bit ashamed. His gills flared with rage.

"You're so smug about slaying your own family that you don't even try to deny what you've done! Oh how I would love to rip you to shreds, NiGHTS. Starting with that goofy looking grin," he said in a dangerously low tone. "But I'll save that for later. We were dead, but we've come back, and the first thing we want is some answers. What exactly did you do."

"I believe, as far as my memory will track, that I got rid of Master Wizeman and reset the whole Dimension," NiGHTS responded without missing a beat. He himself was concentrating hard, as the memories themselves were relatively faint. But he remembered overall what he had done. He defeated his evil Creator and banished him to unknown depths where he could never harm another Dreamer again.

"You fiend. You horrible, evil monster! How could you just _kill_ our Master?! And what of Reala?!" Gulpo shouted, his blue flesh becoming tainted with steaming red.

NiGHTS' head tipped a little to the side.

"That's the thing, I don't remember doing away with Reala. He tried to fight me, and I beat him. That's about all I can recollect."

His brow lifted. "Satisfied now that you've got that information? Well if so, get out and don't come back. You're unwanted here. You reek of treachery and I can sense it even from the Entrance. I don't want to hurt anyone like I had to before, but I will if it means protecting Visitors and their ideya. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure their safety."

Gulpo was quivering with anger and shock.

"So you mean to tell me you single-handedly destroyed our only means of authority? _Both of them?!"_

"Of course not. I was not alone. I was accompanied by Dreamers. You all really underestimate their power. There was a boy and a girl who helped me to defeat your lot, and then another boy and girl who defeated the new wave of Nightmaren that came after you. It was all done with the power of Courage, Wisdom, Hope, Purity, and Growth. Not to mention a little Dualization to truly get things going."

"What?! Now I'm starting to think Jackle's the sane one! What do you mean 'new wave'? More Nightmaren, as in Second-Levels?! First-Levels? Where! When did this happen?! How long has it been?!"

"Since you were alive? A long time. Things have changed, I'll leave it at that. Now go."

It took every ounce of self-control to keep Gulpo from drilling into the coy Nightmaren, slicing him open with his razor-sharp fins and spilling his putrid juices right then and there. But he knew that if NiGHTS had beat him and all the others once before, he could easily do it again. They needed to grow stronger together. They had to form an alliance, devise a plan, and wipe the abomination from the Dream World's existence with the twisted genius of Nighmare's teamwork.

"Don't get too comfortable here, NiGHTS. This place is hardly your sanctuary. You've got a lot of revenge coming your way. So be prepared," Gulpo declared before seeping back into the shadows embedded with sprites and jewels. NiGHTS watched his form disperse with a stiffened brow. He lifted above the trees and watched the branded silhouette of the fish against the red sky swim forth into Nightmare Castle, until it'd completely shrunk away and blended in with the dark castle walls.

NiGHTS tapped his ideya crystal once, settling its flaming core.

He couldn't let his cockiness stand in the way of preparation. The Nightmaren were coming for him.

And this time, they would clearly mean business.

* * *

><p>Lydia couldn't deceive anyone into thinking she wasn't legitimately surprised by the reflection staring back at her.<p>

Her hair flowed like a waterfall of melted wheat. Soft, straight, and parted to the side. Her face was totally matte, without blush, but she did have a touch of carnation colored lip stain, and her eyes were devilishly dark. She was near unrecognizable, and she somewhat enjoyed that.

"I almost forgot the finishing touch. Here," Shannon said before taking a red ribbon and using it to secure Lydia's locks in a lowly placed ponytail. She pulled the front so that it concealed her ears and then combed her fingers through it a few times, before bumping fists with Molly as the two headed off to gather their satchels.

Evangeline appeared next to Lydia, a wire hanger in her hand. Clinging to the hooks was a tiny navy blue dress with thin noodle straps and a shiny belt tied around the middle. She beamed proudly, pressing the material against Lydia's chest.

"I hope you feel as beautiful as you look," she said. "This right here should complete the job. It's the only dress I have that's as tiny as you are. I hope you don't mind wearing it after me. I also have some matching heels right over there in the closet that you can wear for the night. That is, if you and high heels are even compatible."

"Evangeline," Lydia said immediately, silencing her friend before she could ramble any further. "I really don't know what to say. I'm not entirely sure why you're doing all this for me." Her hand flitted at the ribbon binding her hair together. Evangeline just smiled again, lighting up the room with her natural glow.

"It's because we all care about you. You're my best friend, after all," she said without shame. "Now go and get changed. We're leaving in five minutes, whether the dress fits you or not. Though if anything it should just be slightly longer on you since you're much shorter than me. The sooner you get out of those rags, the better," she said, eyeing Lydia's ugly beige jumper.

Lydia mindlessly rolled her eyes and obeyed, treading into the large closet and shutting the door behind her.

"And do hurry up! We're ready to start the party!" Molly called from the other side.

Lydia changed as quickly as she could. The dress fit well. The shoes on the other hand were a tad too big, but she chose not to voice any complaints. They'd already showed enough hospitality by transforming her into a completely new and improved person. They'd somehow managed to make her _attractive._ The least she could was cooperate.

She wobbled out in the heels she'd been provided with and the four of them quickly retreated from the room and descended down the staircase to the front door. The three naturally glamorous of the bunch giggled and exchanged low gossip all the way into Evangeline's car. Lydia, however, remained unusually quiet. And after everyone was in their seats, belted, with the radio blaring sugary rock music, her heart suddenly leaped into her throat as the engine revved and wheeled the vehicle down the road and towards the heart of Bellbridge.

The girls sang along to the lyrics of the song that played, screeching purposely off-key and egging each other on as if it were comedy gold.

"We're the new face of failure! Prettier and younger but not any better off!"

She looked out the window with dead eyes. It was true, she really had no idea what was in store for her.

* * *

><p>Reala remembered the night that Master Wizeman informed him of NiGHTS' betrayal. The God of Nightmare had created two First-Level Nightmaren. Somehow, half of the experiment had gone terribly wrong. One followed his every order without hesitation. The other deceived him the moment he realized that a thing like daylight existed.<p>

The black and red Nightmaren was alert now. His mind was brought out of hibernation. He drifted silently in place.

_He had found NiGHTS carefully holding onto the wrist of a young, Japanese child. The traitor lifted his fingers and traced the lines in the human's soft palm, moving one along his vein. Yellow sparks resulted from the strange chemical reaction, and NiGHTS muttered something about hope. _

_Reala watched their interaction before quickly revealing himself and breaking it apart. He confronted his counterpart at once, demanding that he return to Nightmare since their Master needed him and his loyalty intact. The young Dreamer took one look at the leader of the Nightmaren Army before screaming and running off, the yellow glow hushing the instant his hand tore away._

His body elevated ever so slightly. He remembered the fear in the child's eyes, the frustration and alarm in NiGHTS'. Individually, these instances might have been amusing. But witnessing both simultaneously angered Reala. He'd immediately flown forward and struck the purple jester across the face. It was the first time he'd ever attacked NiGHTS upon the two of them being created.

These memories gave Reala enough adrenaline to hover his body even higher. He hummed to himself.

_"Go ahead and beat me! It makes no difference! I'll never come back and work with the likes of you again! Stealing ideya from children is wrong and I won't stand for it!"_

_"I'll continue robbing ideya as long as our Master needs it. And you'd be wise to do the same."_

_"Never. Not on your life, or his. I'll fight as much as I have to. Their dreams belong to them, in their hearts. If you take it away, you take away a piece of them!"_

_"Don't you dare try and challenge me. Your naivety will get you nowhere."_

_"Neither will your ignorance."_

The comment stung Reala hard.

Him? Ignorant?

He focused with more intent and flew higher than before. His eyelids parted and squinted with rage.

_Reala had half a mind to fight the stubborn jester and put him in his place. But instead, he hissed a warning before dismissing himself from Nightopia's setting altogether. From a distance, he watched in astonishment as NiGHTS calmly lured the child from earlier out of his hiding spot, explaining that the danger had retreated. He held his hand up, and the Dreamer did the same. They then fastened the two together, and a huge light burst from the spot. In its place, the boy no longer existed. NiGHTS then began talking to himself._

His flying became more aggressive. He was going at break-neck speed.

_"I believe your soul just melded with mine!" NiGHTS said aloud to absolutely no one. Reala was beginning to think that maybe the Nightmaren must've been drunk on Nightopia's fountain water and had clearly lost his mind. But then, his voice spoke again, except this time in a different language, and with the human's dialect. Reala put the pieces together and realized that NiGHTS and the Dreamer had become one, sharing his body and exploring their surroundings like it were a large, limitless playground. He'd heard of such a practice before, except none had ever attempted it as socialization with Dreamers beyond robbing them was prohibited._

_It was called Dualization._

_Could Reala do that too?_

**_Like hell I can! Who even cares?!_**

Reala's anger suddenly snapped and with a loud grunt, his eyes flew wide open and he found himself breaking through an invisible barrier. He was welcomed by brand new surroundings.

The first thing he saw was a night sky guarded by the bleeding darkness of smog. No moon, or stars, just a sheet of dark blue that barely differed from the darkness he'd seen before. But when he looked around, he noted the environment. There were large metal rectangular prisms in every direction. Everything blended together in an aggravating harmony of light and noise. His body nearly broke into two from the awe and shock. His yellow fingers trembled in terrorized excitement.

Humans. Humans were everywhere. Clucking into strange robotic devices, skipping along strips of pavement, entering and exiting these odd rooms that stretched towards the heavens. It was all so very loud.

There was the crunching concrete as cars rolled beneath him in synchronized lines, screeching horrible electronic wails at one another. The humans were shouting, laughing, crying. And not a single one of them were the children he was so accustomed to targeting. They were older, taller, more gaunt and gray.

They were adults.

Reala suddenly lowered into the street, spinning around and chanting "No!" to himself in disbelief. He held his head in his hands.

"Where am I?!" he shouted into the thick air, somewhat hoping that a person would answer him. Though he knew he was almost scared to hear the truth.

Dreamers in every which way. Most of them grown men and women. A habitat overrun by technology. Urban jungles and loud sirens. A night sky without a visible moon.

Reala turned to ice.

He was in the human world.

Just when he thought this couldn't possibly make any less sense, headlights suddenly dawned on him from behind. He turned quickly and noticed a flash of gray closing in on him before he was completely blinded.

The Nightmaren gasped and held his hands out defensively, too stunned to move or fly to safety.

But instead of feeling the matter collide against his own, the large vehicle went straight through him. As if he wasn't even there.

Once the lights dimmed from behind his eyelids, he opened them once again and watched the car trail away over the cement horizon.

He looked down at his own two hands.

They weren't transparent. He was able to feel himself when he slid his own claws down his arms, legs, and when they patted his jester horns a few times for reassurance. He was definitely there. He could see himself, hear himself, feel himself. Everything except his new design changes were in place where they should be.

So why did that just happen?

Why was he even here?

The Nightmaren became delirious.

He went soaring lowly amongst the crowds of humans, moving through their bodies as if they were made of air. He screamed in people's faces, shouted insults as if they were ignoring him and hatred would get their attention. But nobody looked him in the eye. Nobody turned at the sound of his voice. His calls fell on deaf ears. He himself was out of sight. Unseen, and unheard. Everything he came into contact with became an illusion under his touch. If anything, this was Reala's first nightmare.

In a state of panic, he went tearing through the metal blocks, through layered panels and poles holding what he could only assume were glass jars filled with fireflies. He dove in and out of the earth in a Loch Ness Monster pattern, swirling about with his arms outstretched and feet kicking into anything that wasn't see-through.

But it was useless. His efforts were futile.

There was nothing he could touch, no one who could see or hear him.

He flew back to where he'd emitted himself from the ground, instinctively but barely dodging a small blue car, (not that it would've made much difference) and suddenly noticed a sign on a nearby window.

_Welcome to Bellbridge! _it read, painted in thick, lime green letters.

Bellbridge.

Bellbridge...

He'd ripped dimensions. He was trapped.

Reala screamed in horror and rage.

**(x)**

**(A/N) Woo. I've been on a roll tonight. Lot's of writing, but not enough time to update all my stories. I chose this one since it doesn't seem to get as much love and yet I have this strange passion for it. I hope you enjoyed it. Things will finally start kicking off in the next chapter. I'm excited to write it, and get over this hump where nothing really crucial is taking place. To me this all starts off very slow but I hope it's kept your attention and I hope you'll return for more.**

**I'd also like to point out that the very existence of this story was heavily inspired by Quest of Memories, and that's notable for obvious reasons. But the ideas themselves were always present. I am not stealing hers or looking to make a version of her story as my own.**

***burns bright yellow* Anyway, thanks for reading! Review if you like!**


	5. The Unofficial Meeting

NiGHTS reentered the wake of the Dream Gate with a very ominous expression. His face was hard, lowered while his eyes kept erect. Owl heard his twinkling dust faintly raining across the shrubbery and spun on cue.

"Ah! NiGHTS, oh dearest me! I'm so glad you're here!" he declared with rapidly depleting breath. "I've witnessed something horrible! Quick, you must fly above the forest! Look out into the western horizon. It's Nightmare! Something is happening there!"

The dream jester didn't do as he was told, and instead crossed his arms and lolled his head to the side. His body hovered in place.

"Oh, I know very well that something is happening there. And I can even tell you what it is."

Owl's desperation fell quiet. He leaned forward curiously, awaiting answers. NiGHTS delivered as expected.

"Well the good news is that Wizeman is gone just as he was before I disappeared. The bad news...all of his first creations have risen from the dead, reborn completely from scratch. Every last Nightmaren. I just had a run-in with one of them, in fact. Apparently they've all got hardly any memories left intact but just enough to remember my escape from Nightmare and swear vengeance on my very soul."

The old bird just about fell over.

"Nightmaren? Are you absolutely certain?! You confronted one just now?! But how is that possible?! You destroyed them!"

"Not a clue. Seems I didn't destroy them well enough," the jester said plainly. "Or maybe they're here for the very same reason I am. Meaning we're all...what do the humans call it? Those flesh eating gray things. _Zombies, _is it?_ "_

Owl sighed. "Please stay on topic."

"I _am_ staying on topic. Dead creatures reanimated...that's exactly what we are. What is there left to say? All I know beyond that is that Reala has also gone missing. Now it's only Second-Levels remaining, maybe Third-Levels as well though I didn't catch any, and they're completely confused and lost without their leader or horrendous master. They've turned to Jackle..._Jackle_ of all people, and I have no doubt in my mind that that sadistic mantle is orchestrating a grand scheme right this very second."

"Scheme? What do you mean scheme?"

"Owl, they're planning on killing me as revenge."

Nothing was heard except the gentle falling of water. Something about mentioning even the possibility of NiGHTS being murdered by the evil he killed off first was bone-chilling.

"NiGHTS..." Owl said, this time with less panic and more intelligible seriousness. He locked eyes with the Nightmaren and dropped his head slowly. "Do you realize the kind of danger this puts you in? You defeated those Nightmaren before by attacking them within their own boundaries, because you knowingly exceeded your own. You used their comfort zones against them. But now that their one goal is to eradicate you...and they're banding together for that goal alone...it's very, very risky that you stay here."

"You're probably right. But I'm not running away this time," he said confidently. "I left Nightmare because I refused to obey Wizeman without reason, and I knew that our loyalty was made to be driven by fear. Leaving Nightopia now would be the biggest cowardly move I've ever made. This place is my home. Here, with you and the Dreamers. So now it's their turn to fight me within _my_ boundaries. I'm not leaving."

"But NiGHTS...there's simply too many of them," Owl said. "You're outnumbered, and they'll work to be stronger than before. I promise if you go, I'll be sure to cover your tracks. I won't give out your location, even if it's at the expense of my own life. I'd hate to lose you again, this time permanently, and with Nightmaren overruling the land. Think of what would happen to the Visitors! This entire dimension would crumble without you."

NiGHTS fell deep into thought. He crossed his gaze over towards the rippling night sky, unfolding his arms and reaching upward. His fingers pieced themselves apart and combed the air delicately, as if he were trying to rake the ceiling of the world.

He finally denounced, "Precisely, and that's why I absolutely refuse to go anywhere but here."

His hand then fell. He turned and smirked.

"Might as well make yourself comfortable, Owl. We've got another war brewing, and this time it may get even uglier than before."

* * *

><p>When the Mercedes-Benz rolled up to the front of Bellbridge's night club, Lydia wasn't sure where to look first. Perhaps at the swarm of people she recognized from high school banding together in the overstocked parking lot. Or maybe the underage couple eating face in the back of a car near the entrance, rocking it on its deflated wheels. Or could it be, the club itself, bouncing in its spot to the violently pulsating bass, with a flurry of kaleidoscopic lights bleeding out the windows.<p>

Evangeline stationed her car along the side of the building in a reserved parking spot. The engine came to a humming stop, followed by the clicking of seat-belts. Lydia froze when she realized everyone was getting out.

Molly, who had been sitting in the seat next to her, gleefully removed herself from her side of the vehicle. She turned over momentarily and shot Lydia a quizzical glance.

"Is there a problem?" she asked, with less concern and more a bubbling undertone of impatience. Lydia swallowed down her nerves, stiffly shaking her head.

"It's nothing really, I just sometimes get tense around crowds of people I don't know."

She crawled out the opposite backseat door when she heard Molly laugh to herself from the other side.

"You _do_ know these people, though! They're all from school! And where's the fun in being shy? Just remember, don't focus on the people. Focus on the music! Only focus on the people if the _people_ in question is an attractive male asking you to the dance floor."

Without a response, Lydia slammed her door shut and gravitated towards the rest of the group as they shuffled through the entrance. Evangeline stopped and verified her identity with a bouncer, before he proceeded to pull back the velvet rope and allow them all into Bellbridge Night Club.

Upon entry, Lydia became embroidered by the strobe lights pricking every dark corner of the room, and an overwhelming discomfort filled her to the brim. There were too many people here. The lights were moving in dizzying patterns. She felt physically ill.

The crowd of teenagers went bustling by, spilling their glowing drinks all over the glitzy floor, rubbing against one another in awkward places, and the rest was indistinguishable with the obscurity of the shadows. Most of the people happened to turn the moment Lydia, Shannon, Evangeline and Molly arrived at the front door. Of the four, their attention was mostly caught on Evangeline. Her aura lit up the whole of the blackened room; her appeal practically melting off her slim figure and dazzling features. It made boys drool and girls envious.

She was instantly asked to dance by a bulky male with gelled hair.

Watching her scarlet image blend in with the rest of the neon colors in the room as she disappeared with him to the center of the dance floor, made Lydia audibly moan in despair. Her one true friend had just been torn away from her side, and they'd barely been inside for ten seconds. She felt like a helpless puppy abandoned at the park.

In contrast, Molly and Shannon were overly thrilled by this. They turned and squealed at one another, their eyes lifting dramatically. They then turned and looked towards Lydia, who'd been dragging behind, informed her that they were heading to the juice bar, and also that she was welcomed to join them if she didn't feel like dancing at the moment. But instead, Lydia shook her head and faked a smile, assuring them she'd just watch and wait to naturally get into the scene when the vibe could reach her. The two of them didn't question it and disappeared from her side as well, chirping loudly about how much they loved the song that was playing before their accents died off.

Lydia quickly tip-toed her way off to the side. She minded several dancers and almost stepped on a girl's foot. But once she'd made it safely on the outfield, she went on to be a formally dressed, doe-eyed fly on the wall.

Minutes tipped from single to double digits. Every song made time seem faster than it really was. Lydia's heel clapped against the plaster behind her to the beat of the music. She tried with everything in her to look as socially acceptable and casual as possible. There was no way for her to know if she was doing this correctly, or if she just looked like a frightened praying mantis.

And then the possibility of the latter died. A tall boy spotted her from a distance and maneuvered his way through the dance floor before approaching her carefully.

He held his hand out in her direction. Lydia noticed him reaching towards her and flinched immediately. The boy's fingers twitched backwards.

"Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," he said apologetically. "I was going to ask if you'd like to dance with me."

Lydia gaped at him almost in fear. She recognized this person. His ridiculous altitude and his choppy brown hair. He was from her English class. The boy who Evangeline claimed to have been ogling at her when they were texting. Josh. Josh from English class.

She didn't move an inch. Her mouth wouldn't budge. Not even to ask the obvious, 'Do you recognize me from school at all?'

When she didn't respond, Josh began to lower his hand and prepared to disperse back into the crowd. Lydia realized he was leaving and felt the insulting gesture crawling like slime down to the pit of her stomach, Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist with both hands.

Focus on the music, Molly had said. Not the people, unless it's an attractive male asking to dance.

And here she was.

"Sorry," she said quickly. Her heart was pounding in her ears.

_What are you doing?! Don't just grab people like that you stupid, arrogant, over-confident little-_

"I was caught up in my own thinking. The answer is yes, I'd love to dance with you. Why not?"

_Why not?! Because this is completely out of your nature! Stop! Abandon ship! You're going to embarrass yourself and you know it!_

Josh smiled, completely forgetting that he was about to leave her and find someone prettier and more open to his invitations. He moved his palm down into hers. Lydia's face quickly grew hot from the skin on skin contact. With a single tug, he pulled her towards the jeweled panels on the floor, and a few people cleared so they were allowed a little space.

Then suddenly Lydia shut down inside. She realized what she was doing. Dancing? What was dancing? She didn't know dancing. Evangeline knew dancing, because she was a dancer. But Lydia...she was a walker. A sitter. And on a good day she could touch her toes. Anything but dancing.

Her eyes quickly burned across the room. She noticed that a majority of the scantily-clad girls were facing away from their floor partners, grinding their backside into the men's fronts like they were trying to relieve an itch using tree bark. Some were looking towards each other and dancing very closely, touching at the chests, swaying and mindlessly twisting their arms side to side.

Then there was Evangeline, who was ripping the dance floor to shreds. Her body worked like a graceful flow of water. She moved in a crimson blur, shimmying from one side to the next, her legs gliding hypnotically and arms jiving like they were telling a story. The boy dancing with her was struggling to keep up and failing miserably. The boys not dancing from her watched on from a distance, only to be rewarded with nasty glares from the partners they were currently clutching in big sweaty hands.

Lydia snapped back to reality. She decided to do something in-between what Evangeline was doing and what the onlookers were. She certainly wanted no attention, so stealing the show was out of the question.

Josh seemed heavily relieved that her movement wasn't as stiff as her attitude. He calmly moved along with her, and the two mirrored each other's swaying while keeping a safe bodily distance. At first the song bursting from the anchored speakers was lively and fast-paced, but then it came to a close and allowed a more slow, steadily melodic tune to ride out into the room.

Both dancers noticed this and shyly slowed their dancing. Josh was the first to close the space between them, just a tad.

"You know, you look terribly familiar," he noted, his voice raised a few octaves. "Have we met before?"

Lydia felt a sting of betrayal in her. Was she really that unrecognizable underneath all the painted glamour on her face? She played it cool and shrugged her shoulders. "Erm, not formally, but I'm certain we go to the same school."

"Ah, of course. Bellview High, yes?"

And that was it. This conversation was suddenly stupid to Lydia. They were asking if they knew each other when they literally sat a few feet away from one another every day of the week. She sighed to herself, stepping away just a little, but enough for the oblivious boy to notice.

"Hey, come on now. Don't be timid all of sudden. You're doing great," he assured her, only to be met with pitiful dark eyes. His legs still tapped rhythmically to the music. He smiled softly, having decided to take a different approach.

"Forget I asked. But since it's clear you and I are a little above strangers, you should tell me a little about yourself so we can change that," he said. "Three things about yourself that you find interesting. Go. I'm all ears."

Lydia blinked. Her heart took a quick dive. She immediately thought of her family's situation, with her mother, brother, and monstrous father dictating all three topics. But instead, she masked her thoughts with less broad answers.

"By giving me that sort of instruction you're setting me up for failure. There's nothing interesting about me whatsoever. Otherwise I'd have said them by now to keep you from ditching me like I know you want to."

Josh was utterly taken back by how cold this girl was. But he wasn't willing to give up. He had to break through to her center, even if it meant taking slower steps, literally and figuratively.

"Alright, well you're being only slightly difficult. So I'll go ahead and start with three things about _me_ to maybe make you feel less uncomfortable."

Lydia gulped quietly. This was not going well at all. But she could see in Josh's eyes that he had no intent on leaving things the way they currently were.

"Well one, I play football and I'm looking to try out for scholarships come our fourth year of high school. I also occasionally coach smaller children and tend to get rather close with them. For example, there is this one player, William Taylor, who is incredibly talented. His father's always working so he spends loads of time on the field..."

In Lydia's head his sentence had trailed off, as she couldn't help but grimace after being distracted by the beginning of his first fact. Josh was the athletic type? Lydia absolutely loathed boys who's only focus was mindlessly transporting sports balls from point A to point B. How was he dancing with her, and not Evangeline Sawyer?

"Two, the best times I've had were always spent with my mates. We get together every weekend. In fact, some of them are here now. Though we don't come here very often, and not just because Teen Night is a rare thing. We're regular customers at the cinema and arcade, though. Been that way since we were kids. Old habits truly never die, I guess."

Cinema and arcade? So what is he doing here, Lydia wondered. Sure, he admitted to his other friends being present at the club, but there were no games or movies to indulge in. Just girls. Girls in skirts with long nails and pretty hair.

She silently questioned if everything he was saying right then and there was fabricated to make him seem like a poster child for all-around good guys. Being involved in sports, volunteering to help children, having immensely close relationships with friends, what exactly was his motif?

"And lastly, I'll go ahead and try something brave. I think you look absolutely stunning tonight."

Lydia's thoughts came to a screeching halt. Her face wheeled upwards and she gawked at him.

"What?'

"You heard me."

She wasn't sure whether to be charmed or disgusted by his forwardness. But of course, being a human of less than average intelligence, she chose unnecessarily loud anger. Though she probably would've gotten her point across better if she weren't babbling like a fool.

"E-Excuse me but, you don't even know my name! What possesses you t-to make such bold statements?!" she stammered hopelessly.

Josh grinned slyly at how vulnerable she'd become. "I dunno. And to be honest I don't really care."

His lips then noisily smacked against hers.

* * *

><p>Reala felt his mind violently tipping over into insanity. After all his maddening twirls, his comprehension fell south and he suddenly couldn't tell left from right, nor up from down. And it really wasn't easy to regain himself being that one of his senses had been robbed of him. He knew he must've looked like a total moron dancing through the sky, even if no one was watching. But how could he act rationally when he was a mere ghost stuck in a world inhabited by the very things he hated?<p>

He had tried rocketing towards the moon, as if breaking out of the atmosphere and chasing after the glowing rock would suddenly send him on the right pathway to home where he could pretend this was all a hallucination and never actually happened. But going too high caused his flying instincts to cancel out, and he would lose his strength and sink back to the earth where the buildings had become beads beneath him.

He tried leaving the city by dashing past the scenery's limits. And at first, this seemed entirely plausible. He wanted to be anywhere but in a place that was a carbon copy (albeit a slightly more pathetic one) of the setting where he'd been murdered by his least favorite jester in the world. But when the city began to evaporate from view, his body would start to mysteriously sting. He'd clutch his chest and take deep, unneeded breaths as if to soothe the pain before it became unbearable, leaving him no choice but to retreat back into the depths of Bellbridge.

What was the meaning behind all of this anyway? Was this some sick joke the universe was playing on him? Why did he have to be here? And why him? Why not NiGHTS? NiGHTS was the one who was enthralled by the mere sight of fleshy noses. He loved humans. He loved them like they were his life source. So why wasn't he here in Reala's place?

After a while, Reala gradually transitioned from being frightened and desperate to infuriated beyond belief. He paused and dove his eyes in all directions as he had many times prior. Seeing so many humans bustling about, chattering their unintelligent conversations, and selfishly waltzing about like each of them were the most important thing to grace the dimension, made him absolutely sick. And to make matters worse, most of them were adults. There was something stupidly aggravating in knowing that the brats he was so used to stealing from, only grew to be taller and more shriveled brats.

The few children that he did see, he tried calling to, demanding that they answer him or he'd gash their throats out.

He figured that there was a greater chance one of them could see him being they were avid dreamers and probably visited Nightopia quite often. But not a single one responded to the sound of his voice. Not a single one reacted to having an enclosed yellow and black fist dart straight through their head over and over. They just went trotting alongside their guardians in the bleak of the night. Reala meant nothing to them. He was nothing. It made him furious.

He continued to go about striking people's faces, only to have his hand sail straight through them from cheek to cheek. He went flailing through buildings, trying to knock over the furniture indoors and cause any sort of ruckus, only to end up unscathed on the other side. He growled through his teeth, refusing to accept what was clearly the reality of his situation. There was no way there could be nothing here for him to physically touch, no person who could see or hear him. He refused to believe such a ludicrous thing.

They were supposed to be afraid of him. He wanted them to scream, to point and shout or even run for their lives. Anything...anything would have been great. Anything but this.

With a final enraged cry he went streaking towards a building that was erupting in all sorts of neon colors. One that he'd passed several times before, but never actually targeted head on. It had caught his eye yet again.

He'd only been here for approximately half an hour, and he loathed every ticking second of it.

"I hate this place..." he growled. "I hate this place so much!"

* * *

><p>Inked eyelashes blasted apart. One mouth tore away from the other followed by a gasp. Lydia jumped backwards in shock, staring at her dancing partner like his head had caught fire. Josh cocked one of his thickly knit eyebrows before laughing uneasily at her reaction. He then moved towards her again, as if to steal another kiss. As if that would change her mind or help anything in the slightest.<p>

"Stop!"

With a great shove, Lydia sent the boy tumbling into another girl. She was wearing a hot pink dress shelled in black rhinestones, and high heels tall enough to be cleavers.

The owner's face turned and evil spewed from her eyes.

It was Christy Chamberlin.

Suddenly, everything went from bad to worse.

Upon colliding with her, Josh caught his balance rather quickly, but Christy on the other hand accidentally spilled some of the clear green liquid in the glass between her manicured fingers, directly onto her chest. The combination of colors left an icky brown splotch right where it had fallen. Her expression suddenly waged war on the terribly confused Lydia.

Christy sauntered over to where she stood shivering, shaking her head since the words "I swear I have no idea what just happened," were stuck somewhere in the back of her throat. When she got close enough, her height intimidated the much shorter fifteen year old, and she left a cloud of her powerfully sweet scent intoxicating the air.

"My oh my, what have we got here?" she said in a voice that dripped in acid. Lydia immediately cringed.

"Even I can tell it's you under all that make-up and clean hair, _Lydia."_

Lydia wasn't sure how to retaliate. She knew that Christy was probably smarter than Josh and could see things he couldn't, but she suddenly wished the layers of foundation and eyeliner really were enough to mask her true identity. This was a nightmare that was happening while she was awake. Except instead of crows and decaying corpses, she had a stuck-up princess singling her out in front of everyone in a teenage night club. Attention was instantly drawn. That's what she had been trying to avoid.

"What do you think this is? Are you meant to be Cinderella or something? Transformed and on her way to the ball? Having a dance with a lovely Prince Charming that just so happened to not notice who he was associating with?"

Her irises slid over to where Josh stood awkwardly. He responded by slamming his hands into his pockets and looking the other way. Surely by now he realized who she was; who he had kissed. And from the looks of it, he regretted his actions.

Christy then turned to look down at Lydia again. "Cinderella? Please. You're more like a platypus in a dress. A dress that I'm sure isn't even yours, you swine."

She then tilted her glass over and sent the contents draining down through the front of Lydia's outfit.

Anyone who hadn't been watching now had their eyes in a death lock on the scene. Everyone, literally everyone, on the dance floor, behind the DJ booth, at the juice bar, or along the threaded tile on the side, froze and stared on. The music died, so that all of their reactions were heard.

Some of them began declaring things like "Ooh! Catfight!" while most of them slapped their hands over their mouths and uttered statements of disbelief.

Lydia felt the cool drink sliding down her skin like icy syrup, making her clothing stick in places where it wasn't wanted. With heaving breaths, she took one last look at a happily content Christy, her twisted smile leaving her nauseous, before tearing away from her and careening out the front door.

She was angry. She was scared. She was embarrassed and humiliated. She had known from the very beginning that coming here was a bad idea. All that torture she endured before showing up. It was all for nothing. She only came to be bombarded with more torture.

After having pushed her way through the front door and finding a spot alone outside by some railing, Lydia gripped the metal bars and leaned forward, slowly rocking herself and trying to calm her bubbling temper. The door behind her slammed, cutting her away from the party. The quiet settled in heavily.

She wasn't sure what had just happened, but it was enough to stop whatever potential the night had right in its tracks. Lydia left her younger brother alone so she could go out and be a teenager for once, and this was the result. It was definitely not worth it. How could she leave Michael with their father, a man who swore to make his life miserable? Was this her karma?

No matter how much she tried to convince her that it was alright and that it could be so much worse, it still took everything in her to keep the tears from falling. If she cried even just a little, her makeup would smear, and that would leave evidence of weakness streaking down her cheeks and neck if and when she decided to make a reentry. She couldn't allow herself to lose that dignity too.

She stood there by herself in the cool autumn night, the music now bouncing within the club walls once again. The lights that bordered the signs painted sheets of color on her back and illuminated her hair.

Where was the redemption in this situation? What was there left to do but give up, admit defeat, and request that she leave? She couldn't drag her friends home with her. They'd barely been there an hour. All they wanted was to have fun. They wanted to celebrate the end of the summer, and the beginning of sophomore year. They would never forgive her lack of charisma for ruining something that was very special to them.

Her face sank into her scraggly arms. She had to do something eventually. Standing there wasn't going to do anything but make her feel colder. And this was confirmed when a cool breeze came rolling by and chilled the wet patches on her skin.

* * *

><p>Once Reala could hear the music, and how obnoxious and untamed it was, he screwed his teeth together and ventured onward, swiping at certain objects and people that caught his attention along the way. So what if he couldn't touch them? He had to take his fury out on something, even if it was the equivalent of attacking invisible punching bags.<p>

He swooped down the street and barreled towards the building from its side. He melted through the various street lights and soared forward with angrily grabby hands.

Reala wasn't focusing much on anything but his own irritation. He did, however, happen to notice a female with her head planted against some black metal outside the building. She was far away from the other humans who were clustered together near the parking lot. In her hair there was a long red ribbon, bright enough to make an ideya jealous. The wind picked it up and swayed it above her head.

For some reason, the way it bobbed so innocently set his temper aflame. Why was the ribbon able to be manipulated by matter, by something as light as air? Why was something so insignificant given something he wasn't? Maddening thoughts such as this caused him to go tearing past it with his hand outstretched as he pretended he had the ability to swipe it out of existence.

That's why he was incredibly confused when the ribbon in question got snagged on his fingers and went ripping off the female's head.

* * *

><p>Lydia jolted immediately. Someone, some <em>jerk,<em> had yanked her head back by the ribbon accessory Shannon had presented her with earlier. Maybe she could handle getting mean mugged, but this was definitely crossing the line. Were they not done patronizing her? When was enough finally enough?

With an gasp of rage, she grabbed the base of the now naked ponytail and spun around, ready to knock some manners into whoever had gone pulling at her like they had a right to lay their hands on anyone. The ribbon went flying off until the wind slapped it against the bone of a street lamp and caught it so that it didn't go disappearing into the city.

"Hey!" she exclaimed upon rotating. But her fiery voice went dead the moment she realized no one was there behind her.

Her eyes shifted in all directions, heavy eyelashes blinking furiously. She made a full three-sixty and, with much confusion, realized that she really was alone.

So what in the world had that been? A force had definitely pulled her. There was no doubt about it. She may be able to imagine falling stars, but she couldn't have imagined _that._

Her vision trailed over to the ribbon that was now splattered across the metal lamp, violently flapping in the wind. She squinted her eyes at it, striding over to it carefully.

Unbeknownst to Lydia, on the other side of the lamp there was a Nightmaren who flew in place with a gaping jaw.

He'd managed to pull the ribbon off her head. He'd _actually_ been able to grab it. But as soon as it was stricken away from her, the fabric had melted out of his fingers and ended up carried along by the force of air. He watched the young girl carefully, studying her every move. She made her way to the hair piece and plucked it from its spot.

She reached behind her and tied it into a sloppy bow around the bondage of hair left unharmed. The rest of her straw-colored locks swung towards him with another rush of wind. The strands were long enough to barely graze his body.

He could feel it. The ticklish touch of her hair. It was just enough for him to notice, but not enough for her to feel a thing.

Lydia knew she couldn't tie anything as well as Shannon could, especially without a mirror. But that wasn't her main concern at the moment. With a lingering gaze, she latched onto the street lamp and looked outwards toward the street. Many cars rippled past her, a few city-dwellers crossed the paths in the street, but there was not a single person within a close enough vicinity that they could've grabbed at her and then run away.

When her eyes finally settled, she wasn't looking at Reala. She was staring straight _through_ him. Reala was too enticed by the illusion to care. He examined the girl's every detail. Her brown eyes that sagged with exhaustion, her bubblegum colored lips, her _nose_, her spidery frame (seriously, she was almost as wimpy as NiGHTS), and the deep breaths she was taking through her mouth.

"Hey, hey girl."

Of course she didn't respond.

"Excuse me, _girl!_ Can you hear me?"

Still no response.

Reala groaned to himself. His face moved closer to hers. She didn't budge.

"Hello!_GIRL!"_

In the process of nearing her, he ended up nabbing onto the same lamp that she was holding. The metal bar materialized in his hand. When he swallowed it in his grasp, his strength caused it to resonate with a long ring as if it'd been stricken by something large.

Now that, Lydia could hear.

She jumped backwards emitting a noise of surprise. Reala didn't do much besides stare on. The gears in his head went spinning out of control, and then malfunctioned entirely.

She couldn't see, or hear him. But he could somehow influence whatever was directly touching _her._

_You're kidding me._

But then...he got an idea.

He momentarily forgot the strange mumbo jumbo touchy nonsense. What about _her?_ If he tapped her on the shoulder, would she be able to feel it? If he stabbed her in the chest with his claw, would it actually pierce through her and cause blood to spill everywhere?

There was only one way to find out. He advanced her slowly like a careful predator.

Then the doors to the club flew open once again. This time a redhead came stomping out with hands groping towards the girl Reala had been preparing to strike. He recoiled instantly, watching their interaction from close by.

"Lydia!" Evangeline cried out, taking her friend by the trembling shoulders. Even though Evangeline was sweating a little from all the exercise her body had been doing, she still mostly looked well put together. She wanted to envelop her friend in a warm hug. but instead kept her at arm length's distance.

"What in blazes happened back there?! Honestly, everyone was staring and I couldn't see a thing because someone was in the way! All I saw and_ heard_ was Christy Chamber-arse patronizing you, and believe me I gathered Shannon and Molly and we all went over gave her a good piece of our minds. But can you please tell me what went on before that? Why did she corner you? Did it concern Josh? You know he and Christy have dated before. Hello? Lydia? Say something!"

Lydia was completely spaced out. Her expression was blank, and instead of losing her thought process with all her focus centered on the best friend in front of her, it instead went rolling to the right, towards the lamp, where an unseen Reala gawked back at her.

Evangeline shook her once. "Hey! Snap out of it! Tell me what's going on!"

Lydia calmly lifted a hand and pointed directly at the area where Reala hovered silently.

"There..." she said quietly.

Evangeline looked at the direction she was jutting her finger in and lifted a groomed eyebrow. She couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"What? What do you mean _there?"_

"Something's there..."

Evangeline whirled back and gaped at her friend. "Pardon me?!"

"It pulled my ribbon out, and then it hit the lamp...the whole thing vibrated against my hand...I _felt_ it...I'm not making it up."

"Lydia. Stop it. You said that this morning about the _red star_ or what have you. Clearly it was a bad idea to drag you here when you haven't gotten any proper rest. I'm taking you home right now."

That knocked Lydia out of her trance.

"...Huh?! N-No!" she yelled suddenly, yanking out of Evangeline's grasp. "Don't even think about it. I'll go home alone. It's my fault this happened, not yours. It's not fair that you have to constantly look after me. I don't need you to babysit me. Do me the favor of letting me handle this on my own."

As their audience, Reala was nodding gleefully.

"Yes, go home you stupid human! Go so I can communicate with you and get to the bottom of this whole mess!"

Evangeline shook her head. "Absolutely not. I'm accompanying you whether you want me to or not. We'll go back to my house and you can go to sleep. You need it, I'm sure. Or...if you're not tired, then you and I can watch a movie together or something. Just wind down and relax. That's harmless, right?"

Reala stopped and frowned at her. "Hey back off, _Cherry._ This isn't going to work if you're distracting my only way of linking to your disgusting world! Don't you understand that I have to _stab_ her?"

"I'm so sorry, Evangeline..." Lydia's face fell. "I didn't want this to happen. I know I ruin everything. But it's like I can't escape it. I don't mean to just go on constantly tripping into war-zones all the time. But tonight, this all happened because I did something I normally wouldn't do. Josh asked me to dance and I said yes. He got too familiar, too fast, and kissed me. I didn't like it. I pushed him and he ran into Christy head-on."

Evangeline's silver eyes widened. "So is that the whole story in a nutshell?"

"Pretty much."

"Fantastic. I won't dwell on it any further. We can talk about it later, but right now let's just go home together. Shannon and Molly can catch a cab themselves. I'm not too fond of this crowd anyway."

_"NO!"_

Reala proceeded to throw a huge tantrum mid-flight as the two teenagers drifted back through the doors and disappeared into the room full of brightly dressed people. He watched from outside the windows and almost darted in after them, but knowing that this Lydia girl might bump into something, he feared it would cause a chain reaction. He'd be risking rubbing against someone sweaty and sticky. Humans shed salt, just as he'd noticed Cherry-head had been, and it was gross. He grumbled to himself.

"You're not getting away that easily," he said under his breath.

He then rose above the building and waited for Lydia and Evangeline to exit, so he could stalk them to their house and then interrogate the one that was the only solid matter within a thousand galaxy radius.

But how he was going to do this, he wasn't entirely sure. It appeared he was only able to touch whatever she was touching at the time. So what would he do...wait for her to pick up a book and then turn around and hit her with it? And how was she supposed to see him or hear his voice?

Then it occurred to him.

This strange girl was _tired._ Her friend said she needed sleep, and she definitely looked like a ghoul.

Perhaps he would have to wait for her to fall asleep...

**(A/N)**

**Eeeggghh. Writing this story has been so much easier to accomplish than my others. Which is strange because it's not totally mindless to me. I enjoy it a lot. I hope you all do too, but I feel this is something only I can appreciate alone. Read, review, PM me, stroke my hair, the usual. I welcome all and any possible questions and comments.**

**Thanks for your time!**


	6. Arrival in the Night Dimension

"I thought I told you guys, I'll have your stuff ready at the door to pick up in the morning! Stop your worrying already!"

Evangeline kept the cellphone pinned between her shoulder and diamond studded ear, hair bunched up in between, as she scrubbed Lydia's face clean with a dampened cloth. Her friend scoffed at the amount of black clots beading into the fabric, though she had to admit, feeling the products wiped clean off of her was incredibly refreshing. It was nice to be in her natural skin again.

The two of them were sitting cross-legged on the tile floor of Evangeline's bathroom. Their dresses had been discarded, and in their place were sets of pajamas. Evangeline wore a pale green gown, while Lydia was adorned in a black shirt and yellow sweatpants that were slightly too big for her. And by slightly too big, they could've easily passed as a blanket rather than an article of clothing. Of course, they were Evangeline's clothes, who's hips were broader and curvier than those of her best friend's. But she could expect no less from the passionate dancer.

"Yes, yes I know. I know that. I'll be sure to keep it safe, I assure you nothing will happen," the redhead sighed as Molly barked insistent demands on the other end of the call, instructing that her makeup kit be guarded and kept in mint condition until it was returned to her the following morning. She and Shannon were both still downtown in Bellbridge, having a minor breakdown since the leader of the pack had left them unattended and without any means of transportation, all to take care of the younger, inexperienced troublemaker that was Lydia.

Lydia could hear the static and music from within the club crackling through the phone's speaker. She cringed, remembering the incident that had brought the two of them home in the first place, before clasping her hands together and looking away shamefully.

After Evangeline cleared away the last of her makeup and snapped the phone shut, she popped her hand softly on Lydia's shoulder and smiled.

"Well, that settles that. You can go ahead and climb into bed if you want. If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen making cocoa."

She then stood and made her way to the door. Lydia's face fell and became obscured by her still stylized hair.

"...Evangeline. Wait."

Her friend turned on cue. "Hm? What's the matter?"

Lydia sighed, curving her torso around so she could look the girl in the face. Her dark eyes drooped, glistening with refracted despair.

"Why are you even my friend?"

All was quiet for a moment before Evangeline leaned her back against the door frame, long legs crossing over one another.

"Because I enjoy being around you. I figured that were obvious."

Lydia shook her head. "I don't see how you can enjoy anything about me, much less having me as your company," she said, her nails digging into the flesh of her palms, "All I've done for you is be this nuisance. I'm like a _parasite._ Just look at what happened tonight...I ruined everything for you guys. You've given me so much and I've done nothing but take. How could you possibly want anything to do with me?"

Evangeline rolled her eyes. "Lydia, if this is still about tonight, then I'll have you know you're being way too dramatic with your self pity. I dance every day. Dancing is what I live for. But it's always about the atmosphere I'm in that makes it enjoyable. Being spared the chance of having silly ol' boys swing me all around the dirty floor of some ridiculous club doesn't exactly give me much to be grouchy about, now does it? Besides, the music wasn't even that interesting when we were there. I could hardly get into it."

Lydia's brows drawled together. "Huh? So...you're saying you didn't even want to go to the club in the first place?"

Her friend snorted. "More like I'm just looking at the bright side. Listen, I'll answer all your questions when I come back. I need a chocolate fix in a way that should be criminal. Would you like a cup as well? You know, before you go to sleep? It might be soothing."

Lydia shook her head and waved her off before she disappeared from the room altogether. She was left alone to gather her thoughts.

Even though Evangeline was trying to be sincere and lessen her guilt, the humiliation had done little to disperse. No matter what she said, Lydia had still been embarrassed in front of everyone at that club, and nothing was going to change or reverse that. It'd been her first night out, her first attempt at having a proud social life, and it'd completely gone up in smoke. All because of Christy Chamberlin.

She grimaced. No, she couldn't place all the blame on Christy. It wasn't entirely her fault. It was also Josh's. After all, he was the one who kissed her without consent.

She coiled tighter. No, it was her fault for shoving him so harshly.

It always came back to her.

What made it worse was that she cared so much about what other people's opinions were of her. She didn't want to be that type of person. But even when she tried to convince herself that what they said didn't matter, that it was all sticks and stones, it still made her stomach curdle each time she thought about it, along with all the things everyone at school would be saying about her come Monday morning.

All she could do was try and not think about it at all. That was the best option she could come up with at this point in time.

She picked herself up and scurried along to the massive bed in Evangeline's room, not knowing her every move was being watched by a dangerously annoyed Nightmaren.

Reala was so completely _lost..._near drowning in his own confusion. He didn't understand the mechanics of the situation, even after he'd been left in stillness and silence to put the pieces together on his own. This particular puzzle was simply illogical.

He had been hovering outside the walls of the mansion, lingering nearby the windows where audio had been the most pristine. He would've been happy to just soar right in and make himself at home, until he realized that the two girls were swapping out their clothes.

If there was one weakness Reala had, it was feeling indecent. Not to mention there was something about female anatomy that made him immensely uncomfortable.

But now his eye had caught his target emerging from a small, bright space off to the side of a larger area. She made her way to a mattress placed in the center of the neighboring room and sat atop the white cloak sheathed around it.

Without any further dwelling, his body melted through the wall, and with careful precision, he found himself drawing closer to her.

She appeared different now than she had before. Her features were no longer lined and highlighted, and her exhaustion was even more present with the absence of a cosmetic mask. But it was undoubtedly the same female who's ribbon he had torn out. This was indeed the only person who's matter he could communicate with. He moved in front of her, flexing his yellow fingers in her direction. He teased himself with the opportunity of frightening her with a single jab.

Lydia exhaled heavily and toppled backwards, unknowingly collapsing away from the Nightmaren's reach. Her back plopped against the bed and she breathed deeply through her nose.

Reala's hand fell. He flew upwards and hovered in place above her, glaring down angrily but also with a strange sense of curiosity, one arm folded over the other. Lydia's dead eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, and once again, burned straight through him as if he were made of vapor. A part of the Nightmaren Leader wanted to rip the flesh off her pouty little face just to get her attention, while another part kept his temper at bay.

Why was this girl the only thing he could have direct influence with? He detected no sort of ideya from her, which wasn't too hard to believe given her somber expressions and personality. So what about her was magnetizing his power? And even if she had an ideya, it still wouldn't make any sense. All the other humans endowed with their own separate ideya still couldn't come into contact with him regardless. It was all so mind-boggling.

All he could do now was patiently await the human's slumber. Once she slept, he was going to try something he'd never tried before. Something he thought he would never, ever do, as it went against all his deepest morals.

He was planning to Dualize with this girl. He planned on prying her spirit into his body by the joining of their hands, and using that ability to somehow escape this human-ridden dimension. The only way this process could be made possible, was if she was dreaming. Therefore, she had to be asleep.

Just the thought of him committing something he once deemed so heinous made him reconsider the plan entirely. But he had nothing to lose. So if there was to be any harm in trying, the harm would only happen to her. That was good enough for him.

The Nightmaren straightened and retreated to the other side of the room.

After her thoughts collapsed and made room for lingering fatigue, Lydia readjusted her body and slipped underneath the silken sheets. Her turmoil suddenly seemed less important. Rest meant more to her than the approval of her peers. And here, a soft chariot of dreams was awaiting directly beneath her frail body.

Her heart slowed, and her eyes fastened shut.

Evangeline entered the room again just as her best friend was dosing away. She sipped liquid chocolate from a small porcelain mug, and upon noticing Lydia, an airy laugh escaped through her nose and sent wavelengths into the twirls of steam. The redhead placed the cup on the bed table and sat on the opposite side of the bed. Her arms draped across the ornate headboard as she watched her friend stir a little in order to get more comfortable.

And then she was asleep. Just like that. Her breathing evened out and became slightly heavier, her body rose and fell in steady beats.

Evangeline smirked at the speed of her slumber, slightly grateful that the younger female wasn't too troubled with her own guilt to rob herself of another night of rest. She shifted underneath the blankets herself and reached for a magazine to accompany her drink.

"I guess all those questions will have to wait until morning. Goodnight, Lydia."

Once the lights were dimmed, she took a single swig of cocoa. From beyond the edge of the rim, her silver eyes drifted out towards the window, deep into the starless sky where a dark, silent ambiance of indigo awaited. Her lips lifted in a soft smile.

"Pleasant dreams."

Those two words rang out like bells. That was his cue card. Reala heard the familiar bidding and knew that it meant his target had dropped her defenses. A.k.a., she was asleep; snug as a bug in a rug. He sauntered forth from his spot within the shadows, gaining on the unconscious Lydia.

_Yes. Pleasant dreams indeed._

She was facing away from her friend and towards him. Her features were relaxed, hair spilled over one shoulder. Her hand was flopping off the side of the bed with the fingers flicked up...each one like an individual invitation. The temptation was accumulating even faster than before.

As soon as he realized that it was time for the plan to unfold, Reala felt sick to his imaginary stomach. It seemed like only a few moments ago he had been in the city and spotted this girl from far away, not paying her a moment's worth of attention as he thought she was _nothing._ Useless. And here she was now his only hope. He was really going through with this. _This._ Of all things. Dualization.

It only seemed to make sense though. Her dreams were the only thing he could cling to; they might be his last emergency exit.

He didn't pay any attention to Evangeline, who sat propped against a mountain of pillows with eyes averted downwards to a bunch of glossy pages. She couldn't see him, or hear how his breathing pattern was climbing, so he wasn't too fixated on the possibility of being caught. Besides, what could she do anyway? If she alerted the sleeping human that there was a monster about to nab her, he'd just knock her out cold before she could even open her eyes. Then she'd _have_ to dream. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

He moved a hand forward, poking one of Lydia's curled up fingers with a single talon.

To his amazement, he felt it. The bone, the bounce of her skin, the scrawny little digit even moved as if it had been manipulated by some unseen force. His icy eyes opened wider.

This truly was the real deal.

With only a little hesitation, the Nightmaren greedily smashed his palm into hers, wincing once the contact had been made official.

And in an instant, the world around him began to darken and spiral.

* * *

><p>"Ah."<p>

The crimson shard planted at the center of NiGHTS' chest flickered with a quick nip of light, and sent a strong impulse rocking throughout his entire body. The Nightmaren clutched it with both of his bare hands. His face dropped quizzically and then hardened into a scowl. Owl had noticed the moment of alien brightness from afar and quickly flew over to inspect.

"What seems to be the problem? Has something happened to your crystal?"

NiGHTS' mind became distant for a moment. He cupped the jewel in his palms and watched the scarlet prisms of light mold into the lines of his skin. "I don't know. It hasn't done anything like that in quite some time."

Owl's head tipped ever so slightly in awe. "I see, so what is the usual reason it reacts in such a way?"

The jester tapped the shard twice with the tip of his finger, and each time a red glow flashed in response, like an eye blinking. He felt an overwhelming sensation flickering at the edge of his senses. It was distant, but still unnerving.

"It's supposed to be a sign, Owl. A sixth sense. It means that something is happening."

Owl furrowed his thick brow. "Something is happening, you say. Well that doesn't exactly narrow it down, now does it?"

NiGHTS' eyes moved like deep, dark sapphires, lolling over in the direction of Nightmare where he assumed whatever it was that was troubling his ideya crystal had occurred.

"No. Something's happening...something that shouldn't be."

* * *

><p><em>Dualization. This is Dualization.<em>

Reala wasn't entirely sure how Dualizing worked. He knew Master Wizeman had programmed the ability into his and NiGHTS' DNA, but the creator never really elaborated on the process or the purpose it served, as he never planned for them to use it. Crossing spirits with young Dreamers was an unneeded practice, and the ruler of Nightmare knew this all too well. That was why Reala never tried it himself, nor had he ever had a reason to.

Knowing that NiGHTS did it quite frequently to partake in his usual mischievous adventures didn't do much to help anything either. The very idea of having his soul meld with that of a human's made him nauseous.

But if there was anything he'd learned from watching NiGHTS do it time and time again, it was that First-Level Nightmaren tended to get a new enforcement of power when their soul was accompanied by that of a Visitor's.

His mind sharpened in frustration.

_Though shouldn't an ideya be required for this to happen correctly?_

All of his questions suddenly shattered like fine glass. He noticed that instead of the human's soul closing in on him like it was supposed to, it was _he,_ his very entity, that was merging into _hers._

Her sleeping form was stationary, while a strange force roped him in towards her until a light blinded him completely, and his limited senses were numbed.

Reala didn't struggle. He focused on a feeling pricking at his chest, and the sensation of warmth and light swallowed him whole.

And then, after he'd been totally enveloped, he disappeared.

The human's hand lay limply where it had been before.

* * *

><p>Lydia was wandering aimlessly through her nightmare's playing field. There was nothing but endless black in front of and behind her, and she was anticipating the appearance of something wild and unsettling, something that would give her the scare of her life. She'd lost awareness of the fact that she was dreaming. All she knew was that she was afraid, and her hands were becoming wet with perspiration.<p>

As a teenager, the Archibold girl had many extrusive fears, such as darkness, loud screaming and sudden, grotesque faces. Silence only fueled these terrors as well, and she was now blanketed by it. She knew why these nightmares occurred, just as they had many years ago when she was a child. They stemmed from deep within the dusted folds of her cerebrum. These visions reflected her emotions of anger, fear, and turmoil, and they morphed together to create horrifying imagery that turned what was once her sanctuary from reality into a graveyard where happiness and comfort went to die.

She didn't know why the nightmares had returned, as no terrible thing had happened like it had in the first instance, but she wished they would vanish as soon as possible.

Then, just as this wish processed in her mind, a jagged white line sliced through the space in front of her. Beams shot out at every angle and pierced the shadowy abyss she'd been pacing through like ghostly spears.

Lydia stopped dead in her tracks, her worries coming to a halt. She leaned forward, balancing on the front pads of her feet and examined the split with raised brows. She found herself rhythmically tapping the edge of her lip.

This crack...what was it exactly? Was it on a wall? Had something been broken and this was the visual it presented? Though, there didn't seem to be an object before her. It was as though it was frozen in mid air.

And now, whatever had caused the matter to break apart, was now bursting through the thin opening and blasting away chunks of leftover fabric.

Light drilled through the area where Lydia stood, and she held her arms up to shield its impact on her pupils. She instinctively slammed her eyelids shut.

Something touched her hand.

One eye peaked open.

She couldn't see it for herself, but she felt this_ something_ grab her hand rather roughly, and give a pull.

Lydia was perplexed. She didn't struggle, or voice any sort of protest. She allowed herself to be guided, willingly, because something about this light gave her more swelling comfort than the infinite darkness had.

Next thing the girl knew, she was being tugged into the bright opening. She couldn't see what was holding her, but it felt like another hand. Warm, slick, yet edged like tough plastic. It had fingers that blistered their strength down through the hollows of her limp knuckles. For a moment, she considered resisting its tug, but all it took was for this thought to drift and the force seemed to yank harder.

The opening gobbled her up before closing itself behind her.

And then she was falling. Weightless, endless, down a cascade of blue with sparks zipping about like drunken fireflies.

Lydia fought to catch her breath.

The force that had once had an iron grip on her had lifted away, allowing her arms to spread so that she fell like a wingless angel.

Despite the velocity at which she descended, there was no lurching feeling that troubled the pits of her stomach. The rush of air against her skin and hair was nothing short of inviting. It felt as though it was pulling her closer into its embrace.

Lydia would've been frightened if she weren't so intrigued. There was no guarantee that what was happening to her meant security, but it sure was nice to look at.

_What is this place?..._Was the only thought tipping along her imagination.

She got her answer all too soon, when her body moved so that it swayed upright, and her feet rooted onto a patch of shadowy grass. The bristles crunched underneath her weight and scraped the rims of her ankles. All the small lights lifted away and retreated back into the sky, where a map of constellations splayed out in colors not found on a human spectrum, each one bright and iridescent.

Lydia's eyes seemed to lose their haze and she suddenly realized the extent of what was happening. Her calm demeanor fell flat along with the new weight of gravity.

Her pajamas had been replaced by the outfit she'd worn the previous morning. Her hair was no sleek and shiny like a new penny, and had now returned to its usual messiness. She spun around in confusion, eyeing her surroundings and desperately trying to mumble a question to someone, anyone. She might have been successful had her mouth not been trembling so violently.

She was in the midst of a forest full of towering trees and infinite paths of shrubbery, standing near a stone path that led towards a gate embroidered by silver trinkets. This place looked completely foreign, and was in the middle of nowhere. She had no idea how she had happened upon a setting such as this one.

Her first instinct was to scream.

Her second was to run away.

And yet somehow, her body obeyed the third instinct, which was to move forward and see what was in store for her.

* * *

><p>Reala grabbed his head and emitted a groan so loud that it reverberated from tree trunk to tree trunk. He took a few deep breaths, finding it in him to maintain a small inkling of serenity despite the teleportation having had such an unapologetic effect on his energy.<p>

Something about jumping dimensions tired him and gave him stings of anxiety. But the intensity eventually ceased. His eyes screwed out in front of him and darted side to side. He noted his surroundings. The forest, the sky, the slightly distant Dream Gate, and almost exploded in triumphant laughter.

_It worked...it actually worked! The Dualization was successful! It brought me home! I'm actually** back!**_

The smarter part of him would've questioned how a thing like this was even possible. He'd touched hands with a sleeping human, one with no possession of ideya, and it had somehow brought him to his own dimension.

But that was just it. It had happened so simply, so quickly, so much more efficiently than his previous travel_ to_ the human world, that he didn't even bother pondering minute details.

His happiness was then thrown off course when he noticed the girl he'd Dualized with wandering alone through the entrance of the Dream Gate. Her clothes were different, her hair much more large and sloppy. She had a fixated look in her eyes and her hands were coiled tightly to her chest as if she were incredibly uncertain and maybe even a little scared.

The Nightmaren glared at her and smirked.

Though he almost went to confront her and bitterly thank her for her unintentional services, he found it much easier to watch from afar and wait for her to draw out NiGHTS. The stupid jester surely couldn't resist interaction with a curious Visitor, much less one that was older than the usual child and had not a single ideya. There was no way he could pass that up.

NiGHTS was his target from the very beginning. Now that he'd made it home, he was prepared to make this return of his one that none of them would soon forget.

Though that may have been slightly pointless. After all, NiGHTS couldn't have a memory if he was dead.

* * *

><p>Lydia's heartbeat was fluctuating with every step she took. After she found herself moving through the archway and watching it from over her shoulder as she passed, she almost considered running back to the spot where she'd come from where she could collapse into a fetal position and coo like an abandoned newborn.<p>

_This place...it seems relatively harmless, and is actually very beautiful...but...but what the bloody hell is it?!_

Something caused her heart to lurch. Her body turned and she began walking in reverse, irises shooting out across the pathway. Paranoia was steadily drumming its way into her head. There was a strange feeling bubbling in her chest. She felt like she was being..._watched_...but her eyes found nothing in her line of sight that suggested danger.

Her senses were still hanging on edge. She hadn't been paying attention, and as a result her hips softly collided with the stone architecture of the Night Dimension's decorative spring.

The girl yelped and spun around, grabbing onto her balance before she managed to trip and actually slip into the basin of pooling water. Instead she took several steps backward and her hands rang together nervously.

_My...That was close...I almost fell in._

"My. That was close, you almost fell in!"

The beats of her pulse became heavier like mallets in her veins. She looked up quickly towards the sky, and was met by a pair of beady eyes, both of which sunk deeply into the face of a rather fat Owl.

Lydia's face froze dead on the spot; her eyes were wide as saucers. This was definitely new, and unusual. Let's not forget impossible. Not only was this bird wearing spectacles and a coat...but did he actually...just-

"Good heavens, are you alright? You look as though you've seen a ghost-"

_"Aaahhhh!"_

Both of them moved away from the other after having been startled; Lydia, by the fact that this peculiar Owl was now _talking_ to her with an actual _voice,_ and Owl, because this spastic Visitor had just screamed in his face.

Lydia began to hyperventilate, much to Owl's confused horror.

"Oh my, what are you doing? Take it easy, dear! And please do not scream!"

Lydia stepped away once more, her chest heaving. Her mouth fell agape as she pointed a quivering finger at the old bird in disbelief. She tried to form a sentence, but nothing came out. Instead, she felt as though her oxygen was draining. She was starting to feel faint.

"P-Please, Miss, do not panic. There's simply no need," the bird said slowly, extending a flapping wing toward her carefully. He had never dealt with someone so absolutely terrified of him. Not even small children gave him that kind of reaction. Did he really look that unsettling? He was just a big bird.

But Lydia couldn't process any of his reassurance. She kept stepping away, every opening in her face flared, with the bones in her arm rattling.

And then she felt a short _poke poke_ on her left shoulder.

The girl was almost too scared to turn around. Too scared to find something just as jarring, if not _more_ jarring than an animal that wore clothes and could speak. Clearly this place was full of oddities. She wasn't prepared for another, and so soon too.

But after gathering her courage, she found it in her to pan around and see what had touched her.

She found NiGHTS gawking back at her.

He was a floating jester, violet colored, unnaturally thin with large, sharpened ankles, had massive eyes with smeared pupils and a color that could sustain galaxies.

Another scream streaked through the night and littered the forest with its echoes.

* * *

><p>NiGHTS eyes slipped to and fro all over the outer regions of this wildly frightened Visitor. She had unruly, caramel colored hair, brown eyes almost dark enough to be black, and a lithe, pale frame that was now shaking like it'd been electrified.<p>

"Hey, take it easy there. I can see that you're scared, but we won't hurt you," he said, reaching out towards her. Fear wasn't exactly an uncommon thing for new Visitors. And he could tell she was definitely new here. He assumed she was only upset about being some place she didn't quite recognize.

"Everything will be okay. Tell me, what would your name b-..ouch!"

Lydia had swatted his long, golden fingers away.

"Get back, you monster!" she shouted, fury staining her voice. For a moment she looked around her for a large stick, or rock even, that she could use to defend herself. But the ground was bare. All that touched it were her two feet, as these mysterious creatures were airborne and hovered a few inches off the dirt. "I want to know where I am, and how I got here!"

NiGHTS glanced over at Owl, who just shrugged.

The jester was more than happy to answer, as it meant less of her obnoxious outbursts. "Why, you've stepped into the World of Dreams. This is the Night Dimension. It's sort of a crosshatching path that leads to a bigger arena where your personal Nightopia awaits."

"Personal...N-Nightopia?" the human stammered hopelessly. NiGHTS only sighed.

"Yes. Nightopia. I'm sure you're not familiar with that either but it's very much a real thing. Every human has access to Nightopia at some point in their lives, though some of them lose their way. So we're here to make your experience grand!"

A long silence dragged before the human exploded yet a second time.

"Oh come now, you expect me to believe that kind of malarkey?!" she cried out, spinning in circles, anxiously eyeing the area around her. "I don't know any of this! It doesn't make sense! I must have lost my mind!"

"Or your consciousness..." Owl pressed, landing near the fountain. A gentle mist settled into the feathers on his back.

"You're dreaming, love. That's why all of this seems illogical from a human's point of view. It may seem unreal, and unorthodox, but it exists! It correlates with your world just the same. One cannot exist without the other. You've only never heard of it because people who visit typically forget the experience after they awaken. And, most of them are young children who dismiss the memories as a product of their imagination once they're older. Though, you look well above the age that we're used to. So...who knows what will happen after you've left."

Lydia faced him once again, carefully absorbing everything he'd said. She didn't like that he referred to her as a _human, _as if she were the only human there. Clearly, an Owl and a flying purple clown with impossibly thin arms and legs couldn't have had much relation to her race, and she was obviously the only human present. But such a statement made her feel even more alone.

Also...she was asleep, apparently. That somehow calmed her nerves. She didn't dwell on the fact that this all felt way more lucid and real compared to her regular dreams, including the nightmares. Dawdling would just make her scared again.

NiGHTS noticed her lengthening vulnerability. He made sure not to near her, and instead crossed his arms and tilted his head. A childish glint played in his deep blue eyes.

"I hope you'll come to accept us as your friends. We don't wish to frighten you or make you uncomfortable. And by the way, my name is NiGHTS. This is my home. I live here with the elder over there," he said, jutting a finger towards Owl. "He just goes by Owl. Pretty self-explanatory."

Lydia did feel more safe now that they'd explained the situation and introduced themselves, but she still wasn't entirely convinced that none of this was dangerous. She also couldn't shake the feeling that something was analyzing her every move. She wrapped her arms around herself, peering up towards the strange, ruby-like crystal embedded in NiGHTS torso.

"Lydia..." she whispered half-heartedly, almost hating the sound of her own name. "I'm Lydia."

"Huh..." NiGHTS said, rubbing his chin. "I see. Well...it's nice to meet you, Lydia! I mean, er, sort of, if you don't count all the hysterics and what have you. Now, if you don't mind me asking, how old are you? Or better yet, how come your hands don't have any sort of glow?"

Lydia's eyes narrowed. "Er...P-Pardon?"

"Yeah. I figured that wouldn't make sense. What I mean is," the jester began, flicking his hand towards her before she flinched away nervously. "Your palms should be glowing either red, yellow, green, blue, or white. That's the general requirement for reaching this Dimension; to carry one if not multiple variants of those energies. It's not abnormal. Not here, at least."

This was becoming more absurd by the second. Lydia blinked several times before holding her hands up and turning them over.

"I assure you I have no idea what you mean," she said quietly. "Also...I'm f-fifteen."

She heard an audible gasp escape the Owl from behind.

NiGHTS glanced at her, suddenly intrigued. "Fifteen? That's very strange. Not only does it seem as though you have no ideya, but...you're not even a child! You're a teenager!"

Lydia's brow lifted. "What are you getting at?"

"To come here without ideya is unheard of. To come here without ideya and be past the age of twelve is just impossi-"

But he didn't get a chance to finish, because a vengeful Reala pelted him from the side.

**(A/N): Pant. pant. pant. pant. short. skirt. mini. skirt. buttoned. up. T-shirt. I've been neglecting writing for so long and now I'm unbelievably rusty. I'd explain what's been going on but I don't have the energy to make excuses. It's 5 AM and I have class in a few hours. The one story I have that gets a lot of love is the one I'm struggling to write, as it would be the final chapter, (been at it for like two years, good gosh) and I'm taking my frustrations out on all the lesser-loved fanfictions of mine. Review if you like! Or don't, I'll just stab myself in the head with a fork or something.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	7. Prison

Puffy entered Jackle's domain with sparkling eyes and two hot pink gloves cuffed to her chest. Between her fingers was a surprise; or rather, a surprise that Jackle was well aware of being that he'd been the one who instructed her to make it. Though, special nonetheless.

"Jackle sweetie, it's finished," she cooed softly. Her round body moved through the air and gained on the back of Jackle's form. He was slumped over and his cape had spilled across the patterned illusions on the floor. His head was dipped, hands noisily at work with some mechanism that Puffy could not see. She would've tapped his shoulder, but oh, how she hated the thought of disturbing him when he was so deeply invested in one of his projects.

"Erm...Jackle, dear...?" she sang cautiously.

The Mantle, now with his attention in a fishnet, spun around and glared at his floating carnival of a girlfriend with psychotically fixated eyes. He'd been readjusting the gears and maneuvers on his precious guillotine, hoping that the rust would clear so they could move again like sweet, bloody clockwork.

"Ah, Puffs! Right on time, I was just finishing up! Well, what are you waiting for? Let me see it now!"

The busty Nightmaren didn't waste a moment's time. Her hands moved forward and parted, revealing what had been previously enclosed in them. It was a puny rag doll.

A doll made to look exactly like NiGHTS.

Jackle found himself reacting to it as if it were the real thing, which had his fury spiraling once again. Sure, this was a _doll._ Sure, it had threads poking out at the limbs like hay needles, and the purple was a few shades off balance, and the face had a tacky smile painted in the shape of a D. But it was enough to send his temper boiling and initiate his memories, all swarming around him in a haunting dance.

Puffy saw the way his expression had darkened and recoiled a little. "D-Do you not like it?" she asked, ears dropping.

"No...no that's not it. I love it. It's excellent...it's absolutely perfect."

And with that, he snatched the floppy toy away from Puffy and proceeded to fasten it under the shackled headpiece of his guillotine.

Puffy's red lips pieced apart to form a circle almost as spherical as she was. "So, darling, correct me if I'm mistaken, but you asked me to stitch a NiGHTS doll just so you could...behead it?"

Hearing her say it made him feel a bit silly. Jackle knew how crazy it sounded, (though the crazy boat had sailed long ago) but he knew better than to deny his strange fascination with murdering NiGHTS. If anything, he wanted it to fester and spread throughout the castle like a virus, so then the others would want to kill the traitor just as much as he did.

He nodded gleefully, turned away from her. "Since I am in charge now and permitted to give orders whenever I desire, I might as well start somewhere! And what better way than to live out my fantasies by practicing my enemy's execution in the comfort of my chamber?!"

The NiGHTS doll was now carefully secure, so Jackle took hold of the rope and gave it a sharp tug, cackling loudly as the blade fell toward its lifeless body. He tricked himself into believing it was the NiGHTS he loathed so much. He imagined the jester squirming violently, unable to free himself, and begging for his life through glassy, tear-filled eyes. He'd turn white with fear. Jackle's grin stretched even wider as he watched the sharp edge glide down as if it were in slow motion and ready to cut him like butter. NiGHTS emitted one final scream, his voice shrill enough to shatter Nightopia before splitting into two, and then-

Nothing.

Jackle's triumphant smile immediately fell. He noticed that even though the blade had fallen, the doll was still in one piece. It hadn't cut through the material. Not even a slit.

With an angry growl, he yanked the rope again and let the blade fall a second time. The NiGHTS doll bounced from the force, but still refrained from being decapitated. Jackle, unable to hold it in, unleashed a shriek of rage, furiously pulling and releasing the twine, but only to be left with an anticlimactic result each time.

It didn't work. Even the_ doll_ had defeated him. Jackle's eye twitched.

Puffy moved in from close by. She was almost humored by how comical all of this was, yet refused to showcase amusement if it meant her beloved's unhappiness.

"Ah, maybe the blade is just dull, my love. It has been a while since it's been used, yes?"

He didn't answer, and instead writhed silently. Puffy didn't say it, but she couldn't help but notice that there was something slightly poetic about Jackle being unable to kill even a doll version of his sworn enemy. She almost voiced a fault by saying maybe she'd sewn it together too tightly, making it impossible to rip. But that wasn't possible. Though, what could Jackle expect when trying to decapitate something that had no neck to begin with?

After an aching silence followed, Puffy's arms finally snaked behind her, unable to interlock, and a faint blush formed from under her mask. "Jackle...I did do as you told me to. Maybe I could...you know...have a reward for behaving? If it's not too much to ask...perhaps a kiss? It would mean the WORLD to me, after all!"

The deranged Mantle pried the doll from its brief imprisonment and gave it a killer stare right into the blue button eyes. Its smile mocked him now more than ever. It was big, overwhelming, as if it were _laughing_ at him. Yes, he could see it, hear it practically when looking at its face. _Huehuehuehue._

He circled around and rammed the doll's head into Puffy's puckered mouth. Her eyes widened and she ripped away in embarrassment.

Jackle shook the doll at her. "There, that was your kiss! That was your _world!_ You happy now, you useless Circus Ball?!"

He then threw the doll as far across the room as his arm would allow, and it ended up slamming against the head of his Jack in the Box before collapsing with a squeak. He then pouted to himself. Puffy could be heard sobbing in the background.

This way of curing his boredom could've gone much better, no doubt. But alas, obliterating rag dolls shaped to look like his foe was an extreme failure, and something told him the joy would've been short-lived had the guillotine miraculously done its job either way.

He just wished Gulpo would return already, or even better, return with a map to the real NiGHTS' head. That way he could rip it off nice and intimately sans useless guillotine, just as he had vowed to do the moment he'd awoken once again.

* * *

><p>Owl and Lydia watched from the sidelines as the two Nightmaren became a tangled bush of narrow limbs and sparkles. Reala was snarling, eyes flooding with rage as he clawed at his counterpart's unseen throat. The innocence in NiGHTS' face was now contorted beyond recognition as he struggled to circle around Reala's body and paraloop him out of existence. They barked each other's names at least once each before more fighting ensued.<p>

Even though there wasn't much he could do but watch, Owl, too shocked and afraid to just stay quiet, attempted to intercept the dueling Nightmaren with rational words, only to end up scratched and kicked off to the side like the feathery inconvenience he was to them.

Lydia, on the other hand, had no problem remaining where she was in silence. It wasn't because she enjoyed being helpless. She was too stunned to actually make any sort of move. And if she did have the courage, what exactly could she do? These two clowns fighting each other, using superhuman agility and springing through the air like glittering jets, were something of a marvel but also a horror. She figured it was best to not interfere

She stopped and focused in on the tumbling body of the scarlet jester, whom she hadn't seen prior to their duel. He wasn't unlike NiGHTS, just colored a bit differently. He had black bars pinned along his feet and two horns, both of which arched inward as opposed to jutting downwards like the former jester's did. Instead of his flesh being a healthy bronze color, it was a ghastly shade of blue, discluding his long fingers which were yellow like ripened lemon peels, and also desperately trying to enclose around NiGHTS head.

His eyes were something else entirely. Nothing close to being warm, gentle, and inviting like the jester she'd met previously. They were a pale, piercing blue, and outside them were a pair of black marks that slashed through his eyelids like inclined spears.

Though she didn't know much about anything at the moment, Lydia couldn't help but feel like this creature that had just shown up was a total contrast to NiGHTS, despite the physical similarities. He looked, and even sounded much more sinister. He possessed a deep, dark voice that reminded her of wilted flowers each time he grunted and spat. She had been wrong to call NiGHTS a monster. This one was like a demon. She was immensely uncomfortable.

It didn't help when, after successfully capturing NiGHTS' ideya crystal in a death-grip, Reala looked over his victim's shoulder and down at her.

His black lips twitched anxiously. He was somewhat shell-shocked. It felt foreign for the girl to look him in the eye after the night the two of them had endured where he'd been a mere phantom. But he fed on her fear, and when he saw the uncertainty in her expression, it fueled his desire to kill her too.

He began prying at NiGHTS crystal, much to the jester's horror as he pushed, jabbed and fought to break free.

Even though NiGHTS screamed at the Nightmaren to release him, Reala's attention didn't falter. His eyes remained on the Visitor, who had stepped forward instinctively when she heard the desperation in NiGHTS' voice. She wanted to help him, and she didn't know how. Better yet, she couldn't. This was all too good.

"It'll be your turn next," he said, almost grinning when he saw the terror etch its way across her face. "Instead of an ideya, it'll be your heart."

Even though Lydia was already fighting back trembles, he wasn't quite finished. He wanted to toy with her as much as the opportunity allowed him.

"I must say, it was especially kind of you to bring me back to my dimension, _human_, even if you didn't mean to do so in the first place," he said with NiGHTS writhing in his grasp. "I thought that after shooting down onto your planet and losing the ability to do anything sensory, I was without hope."

His eyes squinted. "But you helped me. As a way of saying thank you, I'll make sure your death is much more quick and painless."

The human girl felt her blood run cold. Her eyes expanded.

_So, that must mean it was him_...she thought absently.

_He was the red star that I saw falling into the city. _

_He's the one who messed with my ribbon when I was outside the club..._

It all seemed far too impossible, like it was something out of a storybook. Written, of course, by a lunatic, and then trashed by publishers when the logic had come crashing down on it. But somehow it made sense at the same time. What else could it have been, but this strange, floating goblin suspended before her?

With NiGHTS becoming more and more weak by the second, Reala eased his temper and allowed the subtle rush of victory to swell. He could see the fight in NiGHTS' eyes dying away, and mused about how nice it felt to have his foe's life in the palm of his hand. He lowered the two of them to the ground and smirked.

His claws had hooked themselves into the ideya so deeply that it pained NiGHTS to move around too much. His nerves were screaming, his senses pounding desperately. He began to feel dizzy. Reala had never once before just gone and outright grabbed him by his source of energy. But then again, he was never one to fight fair.

Reala cocked his head ever so slightly.

"How does it feel?" he taunted, his focus now pinned on NiGHTS as he penetrated his fingers even deeper into the mass of energy until it began to pool like wet, crimson mercury. "How does it feel to be overpowered, and then killed by the one you betrayed? How does it feel to_ lose?"_

NiGHTS opened his mouth, but only sharp whimpers came rolling out. The ideya was sparking madly.

"Reala...d-don't..." he choked.

Reala's teeth gritted and he tried his hardest to suppress a grin as if it would taint his strength. After a few teasing words, he knew it was time for the extraction.

"Sleep tight, traitor."

He readied himself to pull the shard out completely and leave NiGHTS' soul to tumble away like marbles. His hand gave one final thrust to plant even deeper into the jewel's slivered holds.

But then something collided with his head, and a sharp pain sent him stumbling off to the side. NiGHTS didn't waste any time and quickly used this to his advantage, dislodging Reala's claw and freeing his ideya crystal. He clambered off to the side and sank down to his knees, where he stroked the crystal in short pants as it began to mend itself.

Reala recovered from his surprise before the stinging had subsided. He turned to find the human from before, _Lydia,_ gripping a large branch in her hands, eyes screwed up and slanted angrily.

His black lips stretched down in a vile frown. "How _dare_ y-"

"No, shut up! Just listen!" the human cut him off, leaving Reala in astonished silence. His whole stance was now screaming murderous intent if it hadn't already been doing so before, and he was rather surprised when the girl didn't inch away. She seemed to have lost the feeling of intimidation. She had a strange fire about her, like she'd done this whole thing many times before, and continued without missing a beat. "...I don't know what the bloody hell is happening...I don't know who any of you are."

Her hands twisted around the wood tightly. "But I do know that _you,"_ she said, now jutting the branch in Reala's direction like a scraggly finger, "are the source of all this insanity I've been left to deal with these past two days. I suppose for whatever reason, I was able to notice you..._sense_ you, when no one else could, and as a result you decided to drag me into this giant mess that I have absolutely no part of. It was you who brought me here, wasn't it?"

When Reala didn't answer, and instead just stared at her completely dumbfounded and curious, she reeled the giant twig back. _"Wasn't it?!"_

NiGHTS, who had now tipped his health back into the green, rose from the dirt and lunged at Reala from behind just as he'd been distracted by the Visitor's short outburst.

"Quick! Now's your chance!" the purple jester shouted, locking his arms around the Nightmaren Leader's head. "Run, Lydia! Get out of here while you still can!"

It took a moment for her to register as she'd been so heavily concentrated on her fury with this _Re-ah-lah_ character, but once it clicked, Lydia didn't need to be told twice. She gripped the branch protectively like it was the only weapon in the world, and then took off with it into the woods.

She knew it was best to leave this madness behind her and figure out how to escape once and for all.

* * *

><p><em>Sheesh, I wonder how many nights have passed since I've left. Feels like a thousand and one.<em>

Gulpo swiveled around another tree, possibly the millionth one he'd seen in this endless forest, careful to mind his scales as he'd previously scraped some on a few protruding twigs. If only he could just fly up and avoid them altogether. But his strength was gone. He barely had it in him to fly at all.

_Better yet, I wonder if anyone back at Nightmare has even noticed that I've been gone for quite a while. I bet they don't even miss me._

But he didn't need their sincerity. Although, how could they not wonder where he was? Especially when it came to Jackle the Mantle. That crazy caped Nightmaren was the one who had demanded he go out and find answers by any means necessary, and he'd managed to get a few.

NiGHTS had confirmed Jackle's memories. The purple fiend had killed them, along with Master Wizeman, leaving Nightmare without a ruler and the Nightmaren without a purpose.

How long it had been since their deaths and how they'd managed to come back to life were inquiries still undisclosed, but knowing that NiGHTS was out there frolicking with children while his Master's spirit was made into an empty void, was enough to ignite Gulpo's psychotic rage. He was much better at controlling his fury than Jackle, but now he too knew why the mad Mantle had wanted to kill NiGHTS in the first place. He felt the same need to ravage.

As much as he hated to admit it, Jackle was right. He had to learn to give him a bit more credit; and boy, was that invisible madman going to love every second of it.

Just as he began thinking on how to execute his explanation, he heard the crisp sound of grass being stomped on. He turned his head, gills fluctuating.

_If my ears don't deceive me, that's the sound of feet._ He froze._ But nothing in the Night Dimension walks...**except**..._

Before his thoughts could finish, a human girl came bursting out of the dark brush, hair flying every which way and the stems of leaves caught in her clothes. Her face was turned behind her, as if she was retreating from a chase and trying to make sure she'd covered ground.

When she turned, she noticed Gulpo and swerved around him, only to trip and slam into a nearby tree.

Gulpo, who didn't have too much of a reaction, backed away in shallow disgust while watching the human slip against the bark and almost carve up the sleeve of her shirt.

Lydia looked up and immediately noticed the aquatic creature before her. His scales showed off a dark, glowing effect adjacent to that of rippling water, and it provided just enough light for her to view the rest of him. His eyes were dark red, his sharp bottom teeth overlapped the ones in his upper jaw, and strange horns jutted out from behind his head.

Needless to say, he didn't look too friendly. She scrambled to her feet and backed away.

"No no, please don't attack me," she said quietly with hands up like they were bracing for an attack. She momentarily scanned around her feet, as she'd lost the stick she'd been wielding previously upon collision. It would've been mighty useful right then. "I mean no trouble. I'm just trying to get out of here."

Gulpo, turned off by the scent of her bitter flesh, glided closer and stared at her like the absurd specimen she was.

She was definitely a human. Smelled like one, looked like one, despite appearing a bit more reckless than the norm, older in the face though a very similar height. And yet somehow, he'd been unable to pick up on her presence from afar. Normally, his ideya radar was mighty sensitive. It wasn't triggered as easily as it was for those fancy First-Levels, but it definitely wasn't useless. And here, this human stood before him, and all that was coming across was a thin line.

"Do you...erm...not have ideya?" the fish blurted before he could stop himself. It seemed too impractical; too jarring. How could a human come to the Night Dimension without possessing ideya?

Despite knowing the answer, Lydia didn't know how to respond, as she temporarily forgot how to construct sentences. He was asking her about that stuff again; that stuff that sported a name dangerously close to hers. NiGHTS had already confirmed she was without this accessory called ideya. She found her eyes moving towards her hands again. They still weren't glowing, though of course...it was almost silly that she now was expecting them to. They were blank, encased in shadow, pressed against the tree behind her. She locked her stare with Gulpo and took a big swallow of dewy air.

"No. Now please, get me out of here," she said quickly.

Gulpo's slimy brow lifted with the smallest bit of interest. "Come again?"

"If you want me to beg, I will. I don't like it here. I just want to get out."

Gulpo could practically see the desperation fuming off her. He realized that he was put in a position where he had the say-so. In that moment, he was of ranking authority. Of course he didn't want to help this girl. For her, the way to get out was easy. Just wake up by finding an Alarm Egg. Though he would never say that, and instead humored the idea of chucking her into the Dark Ocean and experimenting on how much designated time it took before her screams died away.

But then, he got a better idea.

If he was going to go back to Nightmare Castle, he didn't want to do so with empty hands...or fins. He had a story, and now he had an ideya-less Dreamer. A part of him was hoping such a return of treasures would be celebrated. Jackle might love him for it, praise him, tell him he did something right. He wanted that way more than he could ever admit. I mean, the reassurance that his existence wasn't pointless was always something to be invited. He'd never get that again now that Wizeman was gone.

"Come with me," Gulpo prompted. "I'll show you the way."

He then descended onward into the direction of Nightmare Castle, tired, but strengthened by anticipation to see the look on Jackle's face when he showed up with the human.

And Lydia, torn between placing her trust in a demented fish or the dark abysses of an unknown forest, chose the former and followed after him in silence.

* * *

><p>"Alright, Reala. Talk."<p>

Reala wasn't one to obey those he had no respect for, and NiGHTS of all people wasn't going to get it so easily. He banged his fists against the plasma walls surrounding him, his teeth clashing like gears.

"Enough!" he shouted, voice muffled by his barriers. "I want you to tell me where you learned to summon ideya palaces! That's something Master Wizeman taught _me_ to do!"

NiGHTS hovered with his arms crossed, admiring his handiwork. Indeed, he'd trapped Reala in an ideya palace. It wasn't anything that required technique, no matter how much the Nightmaren Leader detested. After all, what was so hard about snapping your fingers while focusing on a specific patch of ground? Something about this revenge was just a bit too sweet.

"If you must know, I spent a lot of time learning the placement of these stupid things in my free time, that way I could avoid them the next time you wanted to punish me. You always did hate my desire to be free from your disgusting, thieving lot. Really stinks to be locked up, doesn't it, Reala? Maybe I should let a bird fly off with the key as well. Then that'll really get the ball rolling."

The General didn't say a word, and instead growled and kicked the binding surfaces, only to be knocked back without making so much as a dent between the prisms.

"Let me out of here at once, you blasted fool!" he yelled angrily. He'd already tried snapping his fingers, as that was how one bestowed with Nightmaren power made palaces rise from the ground and imprison primary targets, because sorcery and such. But unfortunately, getting out of them was a different story. The newer models required keys, but this old, retired cage, would only unfasten using ideya, and he knew that all too well despite many fruitless attempts to break out from the inside. Not even muscle could tear those brittle walls so long as an ideya was in the picture.

NiGHTS was then joined by Owl, and the two remained risen before him. It was incredibly humiliating to be incarcerated, looked down upon by such worthless individuals. He'd been so close to winning, he'd touched victory with his bare hand. But that human...that stupid, worthless human had to ruin it for him with a stick, of all things.

"You're not going anywhere until you explain where you came from and how you got here," NiGHTS said plainly. "I thought I'd done away with you for good. And now here you are, alive and kicking, still trying to kill me as well."

Reala wasn't liking this at all. He'd be much happier telling them his tale while he squeezed the life out of the alternative jester as part of a villain speech. But alas, he had to yield eventually. He folded his arms, mirroring NiGHTS, and sank lower in his prison. What was the point in keeping his little _vacation_ a secret anyway? It's not like it was anything he'd wanted to begin with.

"If you must know, I ended up in the human world. I returned here via Dualization."

Owl immediately gasped, while NiGHTS narrowed his eyes and his effeminate voice sharpened like the tip of gravel.

"Go on."

Reala growled. "'Go on?' What do you mean_ go on?!_ That right there is explanation enough for why I want you _dead."_

Now he had risen again, pumped by bubbling adrenaline. "I was thrown into a world infested by melodramatic bags of flesh and actually had to_ touch_ the hand of some brat just to reach this little haven of yours! Which, as you already know, I hate very much!"

"But how did Dualization help you to get back to the Night Dimension? That makes not a single bit of sense," NiGHTS said while scratching at his chin. "And how did you Dualize with a Visitor who shouldn't even be a Visitor to begin with? She has no ideya, Reala. No ideya means joining souls with her should be impossible."

Now his fangs were clenched like pointed grinders, ready to tear NiGHTS soul apart. Reala glared at his enemy, his frosted pupils thinning.

"You think I haven't noticed that?! All I know is that I had to wait for her to fall asleep!"

"That's it?"

_"Yes!"_

NiGHTS cocked his head and shot Owl a curious glare. The bird returned it with foggy spectacles, his mind warped with all the cross-hairs and illogical threading of the situation.

Without saying anything further, NiGHTS drew towards the ideya palace and touched one of the shallow pillars. His eyes connected with Reala's, who had his slitted in anger. He took a deep sigh and ran his hand along the cerulean stone.

"Then that means you're Dualized right now."

Reala blinked, unmoving. "What did you say?"

"I said you're Dualized with her. Right now. Your's and Lydia's souls are currently merged."

Reala only stared. He had no idea what he was going on about. Lydia? Was that the name of the girl from before? What did he mean they were Dualized? He thought they were far past that.

And, as if reading his churning mind, NiGHTS explained further.

"She's asleep. You Dualized with her and entered her dreams. In doing so, you transported the both of you into the Night Dimension, because you, Reala, are a product of such."

His heavy blue eyes then drooped. "So what happens when she awakens, then?"

A sudden pit formed in Reala's chest. NiGHTS seemed to understand more than he did, and it was actually beginning to scare him. What exactly was he saying? That he wasn't really safe from leaving? That he would get pulled back into the Waking World, which is what the human was a product of, and made to endure exactly what he had before?

He glided away towards the back of his cage, lost in thought. He was incredibly nervous now, as he had no idea where the Visitor had run off to. His fate was in the hands of her consciousness.

He didn't want to go back, he wanted to stay here.

Even if it meant murdering her, so she could never wake up again.

* * *

><p>Lydia had her fingers locked behind her back. She hopped from one stone to the next while crossing a riverbank, following Gulpo from a safe distance away. She made sure they never came close to touching; she also made sure that she was never within his peripheral, where he could watch her and read her rapidly shifting expressions. There was no way she could trust this creature to actually help her, and so long as there was space, it kept her from acting irrationally by running off when she knew he could easily catch her.<p>

After a long time of treading through the dark of the forest, save for a few separate glows that emitted from the various unknown wildlife, Lydia stopped dead in her tracks when a certain sound tickled her eardrum.

It was the sound of ringing. Like an alarm of some sort.

Gulpo noticed her footsteps had halted and turned his head.

"Is there a problem?"

Lydia didn't respond, which only infuriated the impatient Nightmaren. He was about ready to drag her off with his teeth when suddenly he heard the sound too. It wasn't too hard to distinguish. His scales paled to white.

"Could you tell me what that is?" Lydia requested quietly, noting how the ringing was becoming louder with each second. It was moving, and it was getting closer.

Gulpo broke into an anxious sweat. "No, no idea. But it sounds like trouble. I'd keep moving if I were you."

Judging by the nervousness in his voice, Lydia made the decision to break away. She wasn't the brightest, but she definitely wasn't stupid. She could tell that whatever the source of this noise was, the fish didn't want her going near it. So naturally, she thought it best to chase it down in the direction it was coming from.

Gulpo nearly screamed when he noticed her bolt, and began chasing after her. He called after her several times, using informal terms like 'human' and 'skinbag', and this only prompted Lydia to run faster. Whoever had been guiding her was not her friend. This could only mean that the alarm might mean something good. It might mean an escape. She _was_ dreaming, after all.

After breaking through a section of trees, Lydia's soles came to a crunching stop in the soil. Her mouth had dropped, and shadows bled across her face at strange angles with the impending light before her.

A red clock, encased in what she could only assume were spotted eggshells, was headed directly for her, hovering on an invisible path with a bright blue beam shooting out from underneath it. She watched the hands whirling across the surface of the glass, spinning furiously the moment she stepped in front of it. It was as though it could see her, as it was now zeroing in towards her.

Even though it was a bit of an..._alarming_...sight to say the least, Lydia didn't move. The Alarm Egg's pace increased, ready to bathe her in its light. Gulpo was too late before it had swallowed her completely.

He watched as his ticket to praise was torn out of the dimension. He felt all his happiness snaking away, and collapsed in defeat.

Lydia was now floating again, except instead of falling into the depths of an endless night, she could see bright sunshine ahead.

She couldn't resist reaching forward and prodding it with the tip of her finger.

That's all it took, and she was gone.

* * *

><p>Reala grabbed his chest and cried out in agony.<p>

He didn't feel a sensation of pain, but rather a small, ever growing tickle that spread from the inside out. He knew exactly what it indicated, and when he could hear the distant churning of the alarm clock that plagued the Night Dimension by awaking Visitors rich with ideya, his worries became concrete.

His body began to fade, and he watched as the world around him went up in lights. Bright, glowing bullets pieced apart and multiplied, taking over his surroundings. He watched the face of NiGHTS and Owl, both who looked on with heavy intrigue before they were whited out from view.

After the lights died out, the ideya palace was empty.

All was quiet for a solid minute, before NiGHTS finally reached forward and brushed his fingers along the ideya palace.

The Nightmaren had disappeared without a trace.

"Owl..." he said, his voice shuddering. "You must know what's caused this to happen. How can something like this happen? Reala's been kidnapped by the human world, and the girl without an ideya is his only way of returning, if just temporary. How? Or...better yet, _why?"_

But the bird, usually regarded as being the most intelligent thing in the Dream World, didn't have an answer to share, and NiGHTS knew that even before dotting the end of his sentence. The jester turned and gave him a cold stare, just as a soft wind licked across the Dream Gate.

This was only the beginning, and he knew that all too well.

* * *

><p>Lydia's body seemed to react before her mind did. She sat upright, gasping quietly and ringing her hands in her hair, which was now tangled from rolling along the surface of the pillows.<p>

She then moved her palms forward and pressed them over her eyes, slightly rocking in place as her heartbeat steadied and allowed her mind to enter a less nonsensical reality. She could feel blankets bunched between her kneecaps, and when she leaned back, her head hit a white wall.

When she looked over, she noticed Evangeline turned away from her, snoring lightly, her hair tied back in a small red puff.

The room was cast in a soft blue glow. Dawn was drawing closer from beyond the windows. Though instead of the sunrise she was accustomed to, it was bound to come in filtered through the tall buildings and morning smog, something Lydia never imagined she'd be thankful for. She glanced at the window in front of the bed, before forcing a distraction on herself. She tumbled out from under the sheets, standing and swinging back and forth as she thought over everything she had just seen in her sleep.

Being that she had woken up, it was safe to say that the experience from a moment ago wasn't real in the slightest. Perhaps it was a form of sleep paralysis, or perhaps her dreams were strengthening, only to become more bizarre in order to clog the apparatus of incoming nightmares.

Whatever it was, she wasn't keen on revisiting it ever again. In order to avoid said circumstance, she decided to venture on to the bathroom as opposed to going back to sleep, where she could be alone and simply mull over her thoughts.

As she crossed the cold, dark room, Lydia remembered the two jesters she had seen. It was a mystery how she could have conjured up such an elaborate setting. An alternate dimension for dreaming...complete with talking animals and alien-looking jesters? Oh and fish that literally flew. Who needed drugs when she could just take a snooze every now and again. Lydia almost laughed at how insane everything had been.

Though, some of it did provide an explanation for the star she'd witnessed, and when her head had been yanked the night before, followed by the pounding sound of metal, caused by an invisible force. She didn't exactly dream _that._

Though, she quickly dismissed it as just being something conjured from lack of decent rest and thought nothing more of it.

_I wonder where that fish guy would have taken me_...she thought aimlessly, now with her hand wrapped around the door handle. _I know I couldn't have been sure whether or not his intentions were bad. But I mean, come on now, how bad could it have possibly been? It was a dream. Nothing could actually, physically hurt me._

She pried the door open, and stepped into the black room.

_Whatever. Better safe than sorry, I suppose. I'm just glad that it's over._

She reached over and flicked on the nearest switch so that the room became blasted with white.

When her eyes became rinsed in the quick flash, she saw her reflection, and saw the red and black jester from the night before, idly floating beside her.

Lydia froze and turned cold as stone. His eyes stabbed hers like thick wedges of ice, and when he noticed her reaction, his face dipped down and appeared to darken.

Before she could scream, he spun around and slammed her against the wall, hand slapped over her mouth.

Reala had long lost the desire to understand the logic behind this event. He didn't care that she could now see him in her own respective world. He didn't care that they could now interact via all five senses. All he knew was that he _hated_ this girl, and wanted to kill her more than anything. But if he did, he might very well be stuck there forever.

Forget ideya palaces, this was his real imprisonment.

And as of now, there was no game plan.

"If you value your life, you will not say a single word. You'll just _listen. _Understand?"

Of course, stubbornness overrode Lydia's better judgement. She instinctively began grabbing at his wrist in an attempt to free herself, tugging and clawing before quickly realizing that his strength outnumbered hers by triples.

He noticed when her fighting subsided, and she instead trembled violently. The tips of his claws dug deeper into her skin, and he relished in the delight of having her stare at him in fear once again.

Unfortunately for Lydia, the nightmare was far from being over.

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**(A/N) Holy shimatta. What have I become. The very thing that I hated, that's what! An author who can hardly call herself an author when she's clumsy about updating things. For whatever reason, I grow more fond of this story by the day, and so it's always the first thing I work on. I've completed multiple chapters for it while still slowly snailing my way through the others. I hope you enjoy. Review, please. Thank you!**


	8. Card Tricks

Every part of Gulpo turned rigid as his aquatic body maneuvered its way through the doors of Nightmare Castle, a bunch of lights and fibrous ornaments flashing as if welcoming his arrival. An unsavory air of mischief caused the already particularly moist Nightmaren to secrete a sweet perspiration.

He could hear Jackle's voice echoing as if the walls of the hellish kingdom were rubber, and his words airborne balls. He wasn't close, but he wasn't as far as Gulpo would've hoped. _Oh Wizeman, give me the power. How can I possibly explain everything that's happened tonight in an organized manner? Where do I even begin?_

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what NiGHTS would look like if you tossed him in that contraption known to humans as a _blender!"_ the mantle cackled in the distance.

The fish Nightmaren could barely distinguish the velvety murmuring of who he could only assume was Clawz.

"Who had the clever idea of giving Jackle a crayon? Someone own up to it." Another chimed in with a sigh. Possibly Gillwing. "No kidding. And it was a purple crayon at that."

Gulpo tensed up more, his fins flattening to his body.

"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?!" Jackle demanded, bellowing his voice twelve octaves deeper. "That this is a mistake of a creation?! No, it is unlike the source material in every way! For this right here is only the finest of arts! Truly a high quality specimen!"

He even went and brought his gloved hands up in front of his eyes, pretending to see through them as his claws danced like sugar-high spiders. The other Second-Levels flinched. He was impersonating Master Wizeman.

"Why, I even made sure to throw some glitter at it! Who would've thought I'd place all my power into a tiny, sparkly little clown?! I made it a First-Level! I put him above all the others! HO HO HO!"

Clawz spoke again, but this time it sounded much louder. Gulpo had made it outside Jackle's open chamber. With wide eyes, he peered in and watched his fellow Second-Levels all huddle together and exchange words that Jackle either didn't hear, or ignored entirely.

"Maybe I should've tried harder to find ideya. Settling for a Visitor's artsy scraps that'd been left all across the forest floor was clearly a bad decision."

Gillwing hummed in agreement. "Indeed, and what even is a blender? Much less a crayon."

Jackle turned away from his whiteboard and dropped the crayon in the process. A ribbon of purple streamed from the end before hitting the floor and silencing. The Mantle's sharp fingers were violently raking against a catastrophic blob of purple with tangled scribbles and a significantly distressed face. This was NiGHTS in a blender, apparently.

The deranged Nightmaren whirled around, his cape gripping unseen limbs, when his eyes crossed paths with Gulpo's and he gasped in delight.

Gulpo's own scarlet eyes widened in horror at the new wave of attention. All the Nightmaren turned to welcome him with confused but suddenly eager expressions. The fish silently willed himself to keep his dignity upright, to not cower in the presence of his peers.

"Gulpo, you've finally returned! Oh we've been expecting you for quite some time!" Jackle greeted.

That lasted for all of two seconds. His chest quite literally hit the floor.

"Oh...it's all so terrible!" Gulpo moaned, his fins and spikes hanging limply in defeat. "You were right, Jackle. You were right about everything. NiGHTS...NiGHTS was there. I came across him in the woods, and he confessed to our murders, and to doing away with Master Wizeman and...and..." he whimpered like a wounded pup before coiling up on the floor. He could only shiver as the sound of gasping bubbled throughout the room.

"You found NiGHTS? He's still alive after all?!"

"And parading around after destroying our creator no less!"

Puffy sang out a long, drawn out note of despair, warbling in twisted Latin before repeating the same cry. "What will become of Nightmare without our Master?! What are we to do?!"

And then Jackle, maintaining his composure despite being the one with the least amount of _initial_ sanity, eased the hunch in his shoulders and parted through the pond of distressed Second-Levels, all of which were now demanding answers from a curiously distraught Gulpo. He reached towards this fish and lifted his chin carefully, looking intently into his eyes. There was distinct anxiety boiling behind them. It wasn't anger, or even a sense of mourning. Jackle could see he had more to say. He was holding something back.

"You seem tense, dear Gulpo. What is it?" Jackle cooed in a strangely sincere voice. "What all did NiGHTS say? Don't be afraid to tell me everything."

Everyone froze and watched the scene in silence. Jackle expressing sympathy? Understanding? Gulpo was just as confused. He gazed back at the Mantle, feeling a weird twinge of comfort in his presence. Normally he loathed him for his warped mentality, his seemingly thin awareness of ...well, everything in general, and more recently, his outright bossiness after claiming memory of events none of the others remembered. But something about the way he looked now was so reassuring, fatherly almost, that he found himself relaxing, ready to spew things he had been so afraid to say before.

He'd start from the beginning first. They wanted to hear about NiGHTS.

"Your memories are indeed the truth, Jackle. NiGHTS said that he did kill us..." he said again slowly, trying to ease his nerves. Remembering his encounter with the carefree jester made him steam inside."But it wasn't done single-handedly. He used Visitors and their ideya against us. They defeated us, and brought Master Wizeman's reign to an end."

Clawz made a noise of disgust. "Nasty to think that both NiGHTS and some pesky children were the ones to bring us down. Counterproductive, I would say. I can hardly believe it's impossible for us to learn from these events seeing that we have no recollection. There's got to be a way to make sure that doesn't happen again! Right?"

"Well," Gulpo continued, "It would seem that's already been taken into account. After we were destroyed, Wizeman recovered and created new Nightmaren to replace us. Possibly enhanced versions, possibly new versions entirely. I don't know. My imagination can't run that far. But we've basically all been dead for quite some time. Years. A decade perhaps."

The entire room froze. A wave of betrayal rolled over the gathered Nightmaren at the sound of them being replaced by newer, better copies. Gillwing broke the silence with, "And where are these Nightmaren exactly?"

Gulpo could only shrug. "I did not ask. But apparently they were ridden of as well. I haven't seen any sign of them in the castle, or anywhere beyond. I'm assuming it was the era of these new Nightmaren that Master Wizeman had his permanent downfall. And this was probably done with different Visitors than the ones we encountered."

"Right..." Jackle hummed to himself while looking off to the side. "Those Visitors are probably grown up now. Unable to access our world because of age restrictions."

It came tumbling back to him. Gulpo remembered the girl he ran into, and he knew she was the next thing worth mentioning. He became uneasy once again.

"Well after who else I encountered, I wouldn't be so sure."

And now it was almost comical, the amount of absurdity in an already nonsensical world. The Nightmaren crowded around and waited for him to unveil even more of his curious discoveries.

What he said was the last thing any of them expected.

* * *

><p>Surely Reala could have taken a less threatening approach with this mousy little human. He wasn't sure why he let her upset him so much. She was a mere pawn, bridging his world with her's, a trait only inherited by those with dreams. Those that were optimistic children. Those with ideya. Not counting the first tier, Reala was certain she had none of these.<p>

But alas, his questions were answered for him. When the human still struggled against him, and he felt the urge to slit her throat right there, he realized that he could not kill her. Really, he couldn't do anything without being sure it wouldn't leave him stranded in this world. His restriction from ripping her apart drove him mad. And why could she suddenly see him? Why could she suddenly hear him? All she'd done is trespass into their world, clumsily and without invitation. How could she do it? What could he do to go home without her?

He'd told her to listen, though. She needed to listen if she 'valued her life.' Teenagers may have been angsty and moody but surely getting slaughtered by jesters from another world was not at the top of their to-do list. Therefore, she'd eventually stop with her episode. Despite her thrashing, maybe she would at least hear him out. She didn't have much choice. Right?

The only problem was, now that he had her attention at long last, he wasn't sure what to say. So, with a bit of a stumble, he choked out something any generic villain would say.

"I assume you remember me from our encounter in my dimension."

Stupid, Reala thought. So so stupid. He could've done way better if he'd been given time to rehearse. Delivered the same message, but with less fumbling and more intimidation. However, something told him the girl's reaction would've been the same either way. Just some muffled groaning and more weak tugging at his wrists. He let his frustration drive him on even with a lack of confidence.

"You've seen me in action, and you have a distinct understanding of what it is I'm capable of," he went on. Lydia's eyes widened, her hands and legs freezing as she released a whimper. At this, Reala spiked up, fueled by her fear. He could feel his muscles build tension.

"My name is Reala. First-Level Nightmaren. Leader of the Nightmaren Army. I am not here willingly, and I am not here restraining you because I want to. All I want is-ach!"

Lydia hadn't been thinking clearly when she chomped down on the creature's hand. She didn't exert herself too much, afraid that if she actually broke skin and made this flying clown thing bleed whatever juices its kind bled, he'd be driven to end her without any further thought. But, as far as just nibbling for the sake of release, it had worked. He pried his hand back and glared at her, flabbergasted. Was she just stupid?

"You...you bit me?!" he wretched in utter disbelief. She'd gone out of her way to hurt him again. Surely she understood the consequences. She couldn't have been _right_ in the head. "You little...!"

Reala reached for her again, and this time around Lydia swatted him away, gritting her teeth at him in an animalistic manner. It's not like she had fangs, but it was the most she could do that worked as a warning.

"Hands to yourself!" she cried, heart thumping wildly. "I already know who you are! I saw you before! You aren't good at all. You don't belong here...why _are_ you here? What even are you? Why won't you go away?! Am I imagining you now? Have I really gone mad?!"

Her voice gradually grew louder and higher as her sentences progressed. The more she spoke, the more insane she felt. It was as though she was talking to herself. Reala didn't respond this time with violence, but instead threw his hands up, one of which was slightly swollen around the yellow thumb.

"I don't want to be here, you little rat! In case you were too stupid to notice, I'm stuck here, and for whatever twisted reason, I can only return to my world when _you_ are asleep."

"But..._why?_ _Why_ me?"

"Sensible question, coming from the likes of you," he admitted, though still glaring at her dangerously. He had half a mind to just ram her head into the sink and knock her out cold. That would count as sleep, right? Anything was worth a shot at this point. Although something like that would cause physical, possibly irreversible damage. She was a human, and humans relied on their tender little brains to give them a sense of purpose and common sense. Would less brain cells hinder anything? How many could she possibly have if she didn't have the reasoning to not toy with his temper? Reala was almost trembling now.

"Tell me about yourself right now," he demanded, much to Lydia's utter annoyance. Doughnuts had been known to have more chivalry.

"I-I'm Lydia," she stammered emotionlessly. Her sense of safety sky-rocketed after she'd been allowed to process one very important detail. This guy could not kill her. Without her, he couldn't return to his world. Something he was very keen on doing as soon as possible. Though, this didn't make anything seem less surreal, or make danger seem null altogether. Especially now that they could touch and see one another outside crazy clown land.

"I didn't ask for your name. I don't care about that," the Nightmaren spat. "Who were your parents? Your dad? Does he have blue hair?"

"What?" was all Lydia could choke out. She felt dizzy from the amount of nonsense that was happening in such a small white space. But Reala refused to let up. He'd noticed that this girl had an accent strikingly similar to the last two children NiGHTS Dualized with. There was no way she could be either of their child. All those events had just happened, so the Dreamers couldn't have reproduced in that window of time. Unless he was somehow missing a huge chunk of memory. Given his unfamiliarity with humans, he could hardly even tell what millennium he was in.

As Reala shot more questions her way, Lydia held an arm up and began furiously pinching it, still keeping their eye contact intact.

"Have you ever had an ideya at all? Or rather...do you know if you have? In the past?!"

"No," the girl answered quickly. She wanted badly to make it clear she couldn't help this guy. She didn't know how to help him. This was far beyond her level of comprehension, and all she wanted was to be left alone. But she feared that any other response would end with her body in a tub of blood and her dislodged head hanging by the shower curtain.

"Had you ever met NiGHTS prior to last night? Or visited the Night Dimension? Nightopia?"

"I've had dreams, yes, but not of...NiGHTS. Not of that place. Never."

"Not even as a child, were you ever a Visitor, then. And how old are you?"

"Fifteen."

Lydia's voice began to shudder when Reala suddenly neared her and snatched her by the chin. He turned her face left and right, squinting his fierce eyes in concentration. "I don't understand this at all," he concluded, pressuring his fingers again. "Are you some sort of malfunction in the system? Why would the rules be bent for someone like you?

He wouldn't kill her, but it felt unconsciously nice to hurt her as he squeezed harder, and was able to feel her flesh as opposed to feel nothing at all. "It's interesting, yes, but not decipherable. What are you exactly? Why are you my only..._entrance_ to home? I don't even know where to begin to look for answers. And apparently you're no help either."

All that came out of Lydia was a low hiss of discomfort. She was restraining herself from attacking him again. Her eyes slammed shut, and she bit into her lip with building worry. _Wake me up,_ she begged nobody. _Someone please make it stop. Tell me I'm hallucinating this because of sleep deprivation. Anything. Just end it, quickly!_

Then, an angel descended from the heavens to answer her prayer by daintily knocking on the door from the other side.

"Lydia?" Evangeline's voice came out, slightly drugged from the earliness of the morning. "Is that you in there?"

Both Reala and Lydia's eyes darted to the door immediately. Before she could stop herself, Lydia called back to her friend without looking to the Nightmaren for his blessing.

"E-Evangeline!" she choked out, suddenly anchored back to reality. It was comforting to know someone was there for her, concerned for her, but what could Evangeline do? She didn't have answers. She didn't have a way to fight Reala off. Not even two, or three humans could withstand his alien power.

Nonetheless, Evangeline pulled open the door, seeming much more surprised that it wasn't locked rather than that Lydia was in there talking to herself. The moment she cast her eyes toward her bewildered friend, Reala tore away and huddled into the corner by the sink, his body passing through it like ghostly matter. Lydia was frozen. The markings where his hand had been burned her skin, but she doubted it was visible at all. She didn't do so much as flinch, and instead looked between Evangeline and Reala, furiously twisting her head in both directions, waiting for their eyes to meet and for screaming and pointing to ensue.

However, Evangeline stared only at Lydia, absolutely dumbfounded.

"Is everything alright? I heard some thumping, and it almost sounded like you were saying something to yourself."

_Myself?_ Lydia's eyes screwed in on the redhead in utter horror. She looked disturbingly at peace, if not the slightest bit confused and hazy from a night of good rest. She wasn't freaking out, shouting, calling someone for help like Lydia had admittedly hoped for. It would've been so relieving to know that this wasn't an experience she was stuck with on her own. But her friend hadn't even noticed Reala. And Reala had noticed this as well.

"She can't see me," he said out loud at a normal volume to only one set of ears. Lydia's. Her only reaction was to look at him wide-eyed, before crossing the bathroom and making a grab for him.

_"No!_ Look here!" Lydia called out in frustration, swiping at Reala before he smartly moved away and disappeared into the wall and out of the room entirely. Her hand met air, and she was left gaping at where he once hovered. Her arm quivered. She almost cried out, _He's gone now!_ but instead held her tongue, and turned slowly to look at Evangeline with reddening cheeks. She could only imagine how crazy she must've looked to outside parties. She wouldn't have blamed the girl for reconsidering being her friend altogether.

"I...Evange-...eh...you heard me?" Lydia's tone began losing traction. "..._Just_ me?"

Evangeline cocked an eyebrow, looking between her friend and the area that she'd tried grabbing at. "...Yes. And uh, mind me asking what exactly it is _just you_ is doing in here?"

Lydia's face moved back to the wall that Reala had disintegrated through. He was currently on the other side, in a different room that housed Evangeline's sleeping parents. He kept a safe distance away from the surface so that he could listen to the now muffled conversation between the two humans, or at least make the most of it over the snoring, without piercing a jester through so that Lydia would be able to pull him back through. If that's how this worked? Or maybe he'd just end up stuck in between the wall. Anything was possible. Pigs were flying.

Sure, the other girl couldn't see him, and unless Lydia could think quickly on how to reveal his presence, she'd only succeed in making herself look crazier. But it was better safe than sorry. He only needed one human knowing about him. And this one was the only one that could benefit him. The idea of sending the whole human race into a panic over a poltergeist was humourous, but not worth attempting.

Lydia's hand lay flat against the wall. She breathed heavily. Her cheeks grew even hotter with frustration. It was nauseating. There was no way anyone would believe her if she dared explaining what had just happened. They wouldn't believe what she dreamt, nor what she woke up to. She'd only make things worse for herself. It killed her.

"Were you...uh...sleepwalking perhaps?" Evangeline finally asked, feeling awkward.

Lydia's head lifted. Her eyes met with Evangeline's, still large and afraid. All that came from her was a small sound and the nodding of her head. Yes, sleepwalking. Genius. That should tie things over.

"I see. Is that something you've always done?" the redhead pressed. After all, the two of them had shared a bed together on numerous occasions, but she'd never seen anything like this before. Lydia could feel her blood bubbling. Not only did she have to keep secrets, she also had to lie and pretend that what she was experiencing was just another plausible, but still totally weird thing that happened to a lot of other people.

"I-I wouldn't know, to be honest," she laughed nervously, pulling herself away from the wall. It hurt her to be fake right now. But there was nothing else she could do.

Evangeline prodded the corner of her mouth in thought. "I suppose that is true. But it's still rather strange. Why don't we just...er...pretend it never happened? I won't say a word if you don't," she said gently, lifting an eyebrow.

_It did happen though,_ Lydia thought angrily._ It happened and I want to tell someone. But more importantly I want to be believed._ Was she really going to just throw a blanket over this? What would the jester do when there was no one else around? Would she ever tell Evangeline? She'd tried that once...twice now, and to no avail. So would she tell anyone?

"Yes...that might be what's best," she finally concluded, turning a final time to look at her own self in the mirror. Something in her reflection looked manufactured and unconvincing. Maybe it was the story behind her frightened eyes threatening to burst, the short tale of one night she wanted to spew out to any and all that would listen. But it was in a language only she could read. She, along with this flying clown. Reala, he had said. More like a real pain in the arse.

"Perfect!" Evangeline reached for her friend's arm and tugged her out of the bathroom, then out of the bedroom, then down the long flight of stairs. Lydia looked over her shoulder dreamily at the space where she and the Nightmaren had shared their encounter.

"Would you like breakfast? It's the meal I prepare the best!" the redhead asked sweetly. "And there's nothing like a scrumptious breakfast after a night of blissful rest."

Blissful rest, she said. Lydia nodded robotically without so much as breaking a smile as her friend guided her into the empty kitchen where morning's light was only barely beginning to set in.

* * *

><p>"A Visitor with no ideya, you say?" Jackle mused, his voice quiet and of its own dark matter.<p>

Gulpo's only response was to draw in a much needed sigh. "She was also not a child, but rather a more...intermediate age. Teenagers, I believe is what they're called. She looked lost, or at the very least, like she was trying to get away from something. Someone. Almost as if she just happened upon the environment and was petrified. I tried to bring her back with me, to show you myself. But I was too late."

"The Alarm Egg reached her before you could," the Mantle finished for him. Gulpo's head hung, and his senses burned when Jackle made a small 'tsk' of annoyance.

"What a shame. That's a very interesting find. Kind of hard to believe," Jackle said, turning to his colleagues. "Do any of you know if that's even possible? Has this every happened before?"

All the other Nightmaren, who'd been gathered around like it were a campfire to hear Gulpo's story, suddenly blanked. "Not unless Master Wizeman was powerful enough to defy the laws of the universe, which I sincerely doubt," said Clawz. "We need ideya to thrive. Humans are turned away by this dimension if they have no ideya. That's just the way it is. None can simply waltz in and out as they please. We have few rules, but the ones existing cannot be broken. Especially by a mere human. No matter the age, gender, or occupation."

Jackle twined his fingers and blew out a puff of air. "Nicely put, Clawz." His eyes averted back to Gulpo. "Surely things have changed since our departure, but I doubt they've gotten that out of hand. It's not that I think you're fibbing, my good friend. But I know madness, and I think I can safely say the idea alone of this happening is too jarring, much less the real event. Do you think this Visitor will ever come back? Just to serve as proof?"

Gulpo's own eyes darted side to side. "No telling, honestly."

"Right," Jackle's expression held a surprising edge of seriousness as he spoke, "Well if you find her again, be sure to bring her here. And actually succeed next time. I don't want to miss this."

Gillwing's tail flicked with interest, the colorful prisms flashing. "Wait just a minute. You heard Clawz. Visitors without ideya are useless! I mean sure, it's strange in an interesting way, but what could this one possibly do for us other than be a freakshow? And don't we have bigger issues at hand?"

"Like what?" Jackle's cartoonish grin suddenly overtook his face. His eyes became demonically angled, flickering to a smoldering violet and pooled with mischievousness. "Like how to take care of NiGHTS and get our revenge at long last? Huh? Is that what you were going to say?"

Everyone became quiet. Puffy cowered next to Clawz as she watched her beloved delve into the persona of a passionate maniac.

"Just imagine..." Jackle suddenly bolted up into the air and spun, "Recruiting a Visitor of our very own. Someone we can use against NiGHTS, just as he used his Visitors and their dreams against us. Why, by the time this is over, our dependency on ideya will be a thing of the past! Why would we need some glowy crystal of stupid when we have a human powerful enough to overcome dimensional barrier's with nothing to offer?!"

"We can't be certain it's nothing, though," Clawz hissed from the shadows. Beams of light were forming around a Mantle in quite a theatrical manner. "We also can't be certain this Visitor will ever return. It may have been just a one time occurrence."

Jackle's grin became all but a small smirk, as he eyed the dark feline with a slanted brow. He then hastily threw himself towards Gulpo and summoned a deck of cards from within the realms of his cape. The thick sheets of paper went dancing from one yellow palm to the next, twisting and flicking in directions a compass couldn't track. They defied gravity, swam in patterns, the sound of their shuffling rhythmic enough to send chills down the spine.

"Gulpo," he said smoothly. "Pick a card."

The papers suddenly snapped dead center in front of him, packed on top of one another put slightly splayed so Gulpo could properly choose. The fish, with all the confusion in the universe, flicked his fin towards a specific card and watched as it obediently removed itself from the pile and soared over to him gracefully. It was as though they were alive.

When the card turned over on its own, Gulpo's head cocked when he realized the face was totally white. No suit, no number, no member of a monarchy. Just a blank card showcasing itself to an even blanker Nightmaren.

Jackle held the card stiff before him, so that he could not see it himself. He met eyes with Gulpo and grinned deviously.

"Remember the Visitor. Think hard. Focus with all that you have."

With little hesitation, Gulpo met his eyes one final time, full of inquiry, before closing them and willing himself to project an image of Lydia Archibold as instructed. The hair. The face. The body. The aura. His gills tightened.

Before he could comfortably declare that he was finished, Jackle drew the card back into his deck with a wavering finger and shuffled them so that it was lost. The cards choreographed themselves around him once again, except this time with excessive speed that only grew as the seconds ticked. They whizzed so fast they blurred. Lights dimmed throughout the room and the stars within Jackle's cape flared madly, printing beads of white all over the awestruck Second-Levels. They were little spotlights, and he was a magician with a show.

Then it ceased entirely. The cards didn't just collapse, but rather slammed to the floor, save for one. That one card fell splat into Jackle's hand. The Mantle's eyes glowed as he surveyed it himself quickly, before presenting it for all the room to see.

On the card was a messy scribble. Quite similar to a Rorschach test, with ink splotches and lines that made no sense unless you left it up to your mind to tell you what it was. Except somewhere within the random splatters, webbings had formed a very oddly proportioned, caricatured person, so the mind didn't need to imagine too hard. It was a small human that wore a skirt. Long jagged lines made to be the hair, dribbling black at the ends. The face was too small to hold distinct features, but there were two circles on the face. Two eyes. Big. Afraid.

It was Lydia. Gulpo reeled back in amazement. He had no idea Jackle was capable of such sorcery.

"Is this your human?" Jackle asked politely, though it was quite clear he was making an effort to sustain a deeper level of madness. The fish only nodded, and murmurs broke out across the room.

The madman put a finger to his lip and chewed the tip, chuckling and prying at it with his teeth. "Then it's settled! Everyone be on the lookout for a human that looks something like this! First one to bring her back gets to sit on my lap!"

Puffy was out of the room within moments, while the others haphazardly made their way to the exit.

"And if you see NiGHTS, don't bother challenging him," Jackle called one last time to his retreating comrades, only for the door to slam shut as the final Nightmaren left him in his silence.

"We'll bring the fireworks later..." he sighed to his own self, turning the card over and looking at Lydia's scribbled form with growing interest.

He'd found a way to make this game more interesting.

**(A/N)**

**Thank you for reading! Not much to say right now, except that I'm sorry I suck at this whole updating thing. Boo. Please review!**


	9. It Shined Like Velvet

"So I got messages from Molly and Shannon last night while we were sleeping. They kept me posted the entire night, and even afterwards when they went back to Molly's house," Evangeline said after swallowing a mouthful of toast. She was wide awake now, shoveling food into her mouth like she hadn't eaten in days. Very few ever saw this side of her. "For most of the night, they both said pretty much the same thing. That Christy continued to make the night a competition for attention, trying to draw as much to herself as possible. She kept kissing guys left and right, yes _kissing_ them, to make Josh jealous I suppose? Rather immature if you ask me. Not to mention unsanitary. I danced with a few of those boys and they simply can't be trusted."

She scooped up some strawberry preserves with her pinky finger and popped them onto her tongue greedily, chewing the fruit to mush before continuing. "If it's not too bold, I think it was you who made Christy that insecure! Josh thought you were outstandingly beautiful and noticed you before he noticed her. Unless of course he was trying to make her jealous from the beginning. That's what Molly thought, at least, and honestly it wouldn't surprise me. But even if that were the case, it is a bit of an honor that Josh targeted you. I mean after all...it was _Josh._ And it says something about how great you looked and how good of a job we did since-...uh...Lydia? Are you even listening?"

Lydia was immobile. Her head was dropped as if she were surveying her breakfast. French toast with strawberry, some scrambled eggs on the side, tiny little sausages. It looked exquisite. But the teen was too absorbed in poking the yellow bubbles of egg with her fork prongs, eyes totally glazed over, to bother actually eating any of it. Her appetite was nonexistent. Sometimes her head would jolt to the side out of paranoia, but she'd been still like this for a while. Saying nothing, giving no sign of registering anything. She was an empty capsule. It just felt better for her that way.

"Lydia!" Evangeline prompted, pounding the table with her fist. Everything atop it rattled and broke Lydia free of her concentration, sending life back into her body. She looked up dazed and with heavy confusion, her fork dropping.

The redhead raised her eyebrows. "You're awfully good at being weird," she said outright. It hadn't even been a joke. "What's on your mind this time?"

Lydia's face contorted. She was shocked, outraged; not at her friend but at the conflicting emotions suddenly raging within her again. She remembered why she chose to sink so deep into a happy place during their meal. Her friend demanded explanation, but she would never accept what she had to say. There was a demon clown ghost in her house, bothering her, chasing her from reality, to her dreams, and then back to reality. What sane person would buy into that garbage? It's not like Reala had specifically told her she had to keep him a secret. Surely even he knew doing so would be stupid.

"I don't know where to begin," she finally concluded, scowling down at her breakfast again, but with excessive defeat. "And you wouldn't believe me either way."

Evangeline sighed, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. "Well I'm sorry! I'm trying my hardest to be a good friend and level with you. But give me some credit, Lyds! You always go on about the strangest things! I mean recently, it's been about falling stars outside your window that were never actually there, and then your head gets pulled by a bloody poltergeist, a lamp gets hit by nothing anyone could see. Do you see the pattern? And this was all in the span of one day!" Her eyes narrowed. "Where do you even come up with this stuff? Is this because of your nightmares? Maybe they're following you into the real world and causing you to see things that aren't really there."

"You're half right," Lydia spat, eyes darting towards the ceiling and glaring viciously. She felt her temper building more than her fear. But perhaps it was because Reala wasn't in the room with her right now. No, he was somewhere above. Hiding. She silently dared him to come out. In fact, she was surprised he hadn't. Now would be a perfect opportunity to toy with her in front of Evangeline.

Evangeline shrugged and mindlessly bit into her toast again. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. If your nightmares are troubling you that much, it might help to see a professional."

Lydia's eye twitched. It felt like she was being talked down to. "A professional _what?"_ she asked bitterly. "Jester wrangler?"

"Pardon?" Gray eyes flickered to brown ones, each pair of two different emotions entirely. Lydia had lost control of herself for a moment. Thinking about it too heavily, and too consistently, caused the teen to jump out of her chair and slam both hands on the table. She leaned over her plate and began shouting at the only friend she had.

"A _professional_ can't help me, Evangeline! Not with this!" Lydia cried out, her chest stinging. "They can't, you can't, no one can! I don't know what's happening to me! It has nothing to do with my nightmares. Those stemmed from my mother's passing; this stems from something else. I don't know _what._ I want it to stop, but I can't do it myself. I'm trying to escape it. I truly am. Telling you will not make it any easier. Not when you think I've made up everything else!"

The redhead only stared, horror-stricken and in silence. Lydia had brought her mother up. The two never mentioned Lydia's mother. Not just because she was dead, but because something else about her loss deeply plagued the girl in a way she'd never been comfortable to share. She'd lost her parent as a toddler, and seemed to have never moved on. There was another layer of hurt hidden deep between the lines in ink too fine for most to read. Everyone healed at their own pace, but Lydia's scabs were constantly peeling. Just when the scars were starting to fade. They bled now. So freshly.

Lydia tried to calm herself. She wasn't helping her case at all. Coming up with such oddities to spew at an unprepared Evangeline. And then she just decides to snap at her? After she cooked breakfast? No wonder the girl was so hesitant to clue herself in to what Lydia was experiencing personally. How could she take it out on her? It wasn't her fault at all.

The girl slowly retreated back into her chair, a wave of shame rolling over. She took a deep breath and cupped a hand over one side of her face, then moved it down to her chest to check her heartbeart.

She felt it flutter when a male voice broke the quiet in two.

"I see you're yelling at _her_ now."

Reala had drifted from the upper floor and into the dining area quietly and without disturbing the scuffle below. He'd grown bored with watching Evangeline's parents start their morning. One minute they were crashing knuckles into a weird beeping device next to the bed. It was much like an alarm egg but with sirens in place of chimes. And then they climbed out of bed, joints popping grotesquely, sluggishly hauled themselves to the bathroom, stuck pieces of colored plastic in their mouths, and white foam happened. It was disgusting. Not even worth the lesson on how humans operated at sunrise.

Then he'd heard shouting, and immediately realized whom it belonged to. He'd abandoned the ugly scene in the bedroom only to be blinded by orange sunlight on the floor beneath him. This is where the teenagers sat. One was the girl with red hair and a dolly face. The putrid Visitor's friend. Then there was the Visitor herself. Leaned back, breathing heavy as if to console herself. He'd missed the climax.

After speaking, her eyes popped open and focused on him. She jolted upright, growling on cue. Evangeline's face floated from east to west and gradually grew more and more curious.

"Are you...seeing something again?" she asked. It almost sounded like she genuinely cared and was trying to be more than just polite. "Is it over there now?"

Lydia caught herself almost instantly. Reala was watching her with intrigue, awaiting her response. She crossed her arms and puffed air out through her nose. She refused to play his game.

"No, I was just remembering something and it made me mad," she grumbled.

Reala couldn't help but be amused at this. For the very first time it what felt like ages, he smirked. It wasn't an actual smile, but there was definite pleasure involved and it felt almost alien to the Nightmaren. This Lydia character was indirectly going to be quite a joy to work with. Not because her personality was endearing, but rather it'd be nice to watch her be driven mad by his presence alone. That way he knew he wasn't suffering alone.

"What were you remembering? That I still exist?" he teased loudly. "Is that what you _really_ want to tell your friend? How I'm flying right in front of you as if I have not a care in the world?"

Lydia knew exactly what he was doing. She considered going after him. After all, she could touch him. She could interact with him and prove that his matter was really there and not only conjured up from her insanity. But that's just what he wanted her to do. He was testing her. She knew having a physical reaction wouldn't work here. The bastard would simply fly away like the twit clown he was, and she'd be left to explain herself for the umpteenth time. Sooner or later someone would admit her into an asylum. She saw straight jackets in her future. They'd lock her up while she spun in circles and repeated gibberish about flying jesters for hours on end.

Lydia's fists tightened and she forced herself into behaving casually. Trying not to quiver, she picked the fork up with one hand, not breaking eye contact with a snickering Reala, and went on to eat her food after it'd already gone cold.

"Anyway," Evangeline cleared her throat. It was time to change the topic seeing as the previous one had gone rotten quite fast. "Can you just imagine what school will be like tomorrow? Everyone will be talking about you! That's a bit exciting, don't you think?"

_Not really,_ was what Lydia would've said, but she was too busy having a staring contest with the jester opposite from her. He was gliding towards the table slowly. Once he reached it, he realized Lydia's elbow was relaxed atop it and carefully prodded the surface with a single finger-tip. Lydia felt it, her eyes squinted back at his, and he returned the gesture quite wickedly. The tapping was too soft for Evangeline to notice. It was rhythmic, never quite loud enough to be distracting. It drove her mad. He was messing with her just like she knew he would. And this was only the beginning.

Finally, Lydia tore her arm away from the table following it with an agitated noise. The Nightmaren's finger melted through, and with great displeasure he extracted it while looking her way maliciously. He bit the edge of his black lip. How he'd love to knock her backwards for mockingly reminding him of his situation. Even if he DID deserve it.

"I ran out of that club because of Josh..." Lydia thought aloud. She wasn't directly responding to her friend, rather her statement was coincidentally relevant, and more-so directed to Reala. "I was outside, by the railing, because he and Christy humiliated me so much that I couldn't bear being in there with them anymore. That's why I was there. Standing there alone. That's why I was there at all..."

Reala looked forward at her. She was referring to him now; how they'd unwillingly come to interact with one another. She'd made the decision to stand in a spot perfectly coordinated so that he'd see her, fly by and pull out her hair accessory because it'd been waving at him from afar, beckoning him almost. Had it been fate? Was such perfect timing really not choreographed by some greater power?

Evangeline didn't catch on at all. She dismissed the younger teen's rambling as more of her unraveling insanity and pressed onward. "We have English class with both Christy and Josh. That'll be uncomfortable. I wonder if they'll say anything to us. I sure as hell won't be the one to make the first move."

Reala had tried blocking out the conversation since it was so petty and boring, but instead caught on to something unavoidable that lye in store and grimaced.

"Ah that's right. You're a high school student," he said to Lydia. "I'll have to go to school with you until we figure out how to solve this problem. Perfect."

Lydia's eyes widened. The clown had been here for ONE hour and already he was insisting they attend school together?! There was no way she could handle that. It was hard enough with just one person present. But _school?"_

"You will do no such thing!" she shouted, glaring at him directly. She forgot he was invisible to all but her, save for the last second, and instead stuffed a lump of strawberry down her gullet in response to Evangeline's raised eyebrow, her irises quickly slitting off into space with shame.

"Er...yeah, like I said, I have no interest to stir the pot," the redhead sipped her tea nonchalantly, watching Lydia over the brim. "Christy on the other hand might be a bit less reasonable. If I were you, I'd prepare for a showdown."

"Well that's a bit dramatic." Reala lowered his eyelids after briefly looking to Evangeline. "You humans really are the most boring things in the universe if a "showdown" consists of two underage females squabbling over potential mates."

Lydia mirrored her friend by taking a swig of her own beverage. She felt her heart beating faster. She was building a sweat. _He's just sitting in here chatting it up. He's deliberately trying to get to me. Potential mate? Get real. Get real, **Real**a. If that's even your REAL name._

The cup almost fell from her hand when the sound of a car horn blared from outside and broke her out of a trance. Evangeline jumped. Even Reala turned his head.

"How annoying," she mused, setting her utensils down, not realizing that it was the same way she'd gotten Lydia's attention the morning prior. "Who even is that?"

The car was outside the house. The headlights were round and almost totally busted, and it wore a dirty white dome as its body. The windows were poorly tinted, otherwise the driver of the vehicle might not have been so obvious. Lydia felt like she'd dry swallowed a stone.

It was her father, head turned in an eerie manner as he met eyes with her from behind his sunglasses. Evangeline noticed as well and suddenly wished she'd kept the curtains drawn shut. She'd never say it to Lydia, but her father was an unsettling person. Always gave off uncomfortable aura, always stared at people and objects with such disinterest and yet still drummed in this quiet intensity. She'd tried her best to steer clear of him. He seemed disturbed in a way she couldn't exactly pinpoint. Whatever it was, she hoped sincerely that his daughter wasn't beginning to feel the same effects. Even if it was just from sharing a home with him.

Also...why was he here? He'd never gone out of his way to retrieve Lydia from this house. Especially so early in the morning. It was barely eight o' clock. Lydia wasn't ready to go home with him, not including obvious reasons. Reala was waiting to get her alone again. She wanted to stay where she was. She felt safer from everybody, human and non.

But nonetheless, with a face void of emotion, the young girl removed herself from the table. Her focus momentarily flickered to the stairs. To go up stairs and change out of Evangeline's pajamas, or to not. She didn't want there to be any chance of Reala catching her by herself now. Especially nude. But she couldn't just take them home, could she?

"You can just take those home," Evangeline settled the issue quickly, feeling compelled to do so. "I have plenty of things to wear, which is why I'm also not too upset about the dress with the juice stain. I might actually do better with a slimmer wardrobe. But...I don't know if I want you to go along with them," she admitted somewhat sadly. Though there was more a trickle of concern in her voice that Lydia didn't pick up, but Reala did.

The human was transporting. He was about to do so as well, which would be agitating because he wasn't too fond of early sunlight.

Evangeline stood up and joined her friend at the door to bid her goodbye. Lydia checked the pocket of the sweatpants for her phone before weakly hugging her friend. She looked over her shoulder at the area where Reala resided, to find that he'd left. In the blink of an eye. He was no longer within the mansion, but rather hovering eagerly outside it, ready to follow Mr. Archibold's car. He noticed how awful it looked compared to the others he'd crossed in the city.

"Be sure to call me, or send me a message," Evangeline said as they broke apart. Lydia was opening the door, and her eyes lolled downwards accordingly. "You know, if you need anything. Someone to talk to. I promise I'll be a better listener from now on. And...I'm sorry. For everything."

Lydia would've felt more guilty about placing so much responsibility as a friend on her shoulders if she hadn't been so enveloped in her own worries. That Reala was stalking her now. He wasn't going to go away. He was going to make life far more difficult than it already was. She nodded and struggled to form a smile, before tearing through the doorway and off the porch, to the car she loathed so much.

Once the door opened, and she was inside, and the door had shut, and the seatbelt had been fastened, Lydia didn't bother saying anything to her father. Hilarious to think he'd so much as expect a Good Morning. Instead she kept her eyes averted out, watching with a pang to the heart as Evangeline shut the door, then pinned her focus to the skies where she spotted Reala flying near the rooftops. His form was a strange, angular shape of black and red, and its contrast against the sun made it seem even more like an illustration out of a storybook.

The jester was impatient. He couldn't wait to knock the attitude right out of this Dreamer. He cared not for her personal woes. He just wanted to fulfill whatever task necessary to rid himself of this world and return to Nightmare as his permanent residence. Whatever it was, he wanted to do it quickly.

Still in silence, the car began to move. It went well on its way out of the city and towards the filthy suburbs Lydia called home, with a determined Nightmaren hot on her trail.

* * *

><p><em>Now THAT'S one glaring transition.<em>..Reala thought as he fluttered past the bridge between the city and suburbia. They were almost like two different worlds entirely. The human equivalent of Nightmare and Nightopia. Except whereas Nightmare was as least a strong core for dark magic and trickery, the poorer neighborhoods were weak, completely desaturated and honestly quite troubling to look at. The way they'd been placed together in such a tight and cluttered fashion, so carelessly and without passion, with hardly enough room to breathe left him uneasy. Claustrophobic was what humans would have mistaken that feeling as. Every house was painted a different color, at least, which was more than he could say about the ones of Bellbridge. Ooh, even thinking the name sent angry shudders quaking through his body.

With one final glance behind him, he found he could make out the infamous clock tower looming over the urban areas like its queen, surrounded by a haze conjured up from distance alone, while black dots, presumably birds, sailed past its face and off into the lowest clouds. The two humans he was tracking were going away from the tower. Lydia didn't live in the part of Bellbridge that he was accustomed to in the Night Dimension. So there was at least that thin, but still very real silver lining. Now he was safe from flashbacks of his body collapsing through familiar buildings, lifeless, while NiGHTS watched above. For now at least.

Oh yeah, sweet revenge on NiGHTS. That was definitely something to look forward to. Even if the traitor did figure out how to make ideya palaces appear, he'd still teach him the lesson he deserved. How he couldn't wait to get this human asleep again.

Sooner than she would've wanted, Lydia was parked in front of her own house, staring at it like it deserved to be quarantined. Mr. Archibold shifted the car into its stationary gears then twisted the ignition with a single rusty key. Once the rattling engine had become silence and they were left with the sounds of their mismatched breathing, Lydia felt sick. It compelled her to reach for the door handle and exit the vehicle quickly. Just to get away from him. She was confused as to why he hadn't started getting out himself.

But then answer wasn't far behind.

"Say, Lydia," the man spoke gruffly. It was made quite clear that he wasn't the type to usually pull himself out of bed at dawn. What Lydia didn't realize was that he hadn't slept at all. For him it was still yesterday.

Lydia's hand froze on the lever. She didn't meet his eyes, nor say a single word. He knew this meant she was listening, and so he continued.

"Did you remember to bring back your cell phone?"

Lydia's stomach burned at the middle. She didn't understand what he was playing at, but she wished he'd just come out and say what was actually on his mind. Since when did he care if she remembered something like that? It almost felt as if he were searching for a reason to snap, and needed her as his outlet.

"It's in my pocket."

Reala was outside the car now, floating still and waiting for the humans to pry themselves out and enter their disgusting abode. He grew impatient, wondering how long it _normally_ took for their species to enter a household. It didn't take long the night prior when Lydia and Evangeline returned from their party. So what was the deal?

"That's good. You almost left it yesterday, you know." Mr. Archibold's stare was acidic. Lydia didn't have to see it herself. She felt it like sunlight through a magnifying glass, scorching through the back of her head. All sorts of insults and outbursts threatened to spill. If she bit her lip it would've bled.

"Yes, but I didn't," she responded. "What's the problem?"

Mr. Archibold could see she was breathing a bit harder now. He mounted her anxiety like it were a stallion. "There is no problem. It's a very good thing I found it for you and held onto it."

_Is it?_ Lydia thought._ I never even thought to use it while I was away. Why is he telling me this?_

"Though it's not really in your favor that curious, caring fathers such as myself know how basic technology functions and understand how to work the buttons."

At first his implication didn't register, but then Lydia's fingers unfurled, and her eyes widened.

"You didn't even think to delete the messages between you and that redheaded slag."

_No. He didn't._

"You're in a world of trouble. The last thing I'm going to put up with is someone like _Evangeline Sawyer_ turning my daughter into someone like her. You'll be lucky if I ever let you see her again."

_He read my text messages. He knows I went to that club. This can't be happening._

"But you're lucky your brother pissed me off first, otherwise this would become something much, _much_ uglier."

Lydia gasped, and faster than she could process her following thoughts, she tore out of the car and ran straight into the house, calling her brother's name desperately.

Reala had curled himself up into a ball, tapping his fingers against crossed legs when he noticed the Visitor FINALLY going into her house after it felt like the sun had already belted up a few more centimeters in the wky. She was unaccompanied, and had left the door wide open behind her once inside, but none of that was of dire importance. With a lifted eye ridge, the Nightmaren finally straightened. "Took you long enough," he sighed to himself.

He floated towards the walls of the Archibold home, nearing the tall, scraggly tree on the lawn before doubling over his shoulder just as the man who'd driven Lydia followed after her with hands stuffed away in his pants pockets. They formed obvious fists through the looseness of the fabric. He didn't look pleased at all. The jester shrugged before melting through the first window he could find, audibly cutting himself off from the outside world.

* * *

><p>Lydia stood in the doorway of Michael's room, clutching onto the frame with one hand. Her harsh breathing stopped altogether when she took in the sight before her. Her little brother seated on the bed, hugging his own knees with his head ducked in the valley between them. Surrounding him was a catastrophic scene; thrown clothes, broken toys, a dresser tipped over and with socks spilling out the top drawer. It hadn't been like this before. Not entirely. When the young child finally looked up in response to the sound of his sister, he showed her exactly what had happened. The story was on his face, dark and swollen, concentrated in one area.<p>

His eye was black.

If there were any other markings on his body after the obvious scuffle, Lydia didn't pay them any mind. The stricken eye spoke the loudest to her, as it was the darkest and most prominent injury she'd ever seen inflicted on him, both purposely and accidentally. She felt the largeness of her failure threatening to consume her, starting with her legs and gobbling upwards so that she'd be brought to the floor. But just as they began to turn to noodles, she fought those gnashing jaws, and instead flew across the room, jumping over potential obstacles and buried her brother in the biggest hug her scrawny arms could make real. In that moment, things like Reala and Evangeline and cell phones and night clubs and nightmares and dreams no longer existed. It was just him and her.

She wouldn't cry. She had to be strong for him. She was absent for all of last night. He had no one there to be strong for him when he needed it most. So she'd give him that solitude now; she'd try to make up for it in any way that she possibly could. He took the gesture with great relief, pulling her into a deeper embrace as a silent stream of tears fell from both eyes and matted some of her hair. Her face rested in the crook of his shoulder. He couldn't see that her teeth were bared.

"He dropped a wine bottle in the kitchen," Mr. Archibold said in the place where Lydia previously stood. His tone was very dark and serious, like this type of punishment was inevitable, and well-deserving. Like telling a child why a rabid dog had to be put down.

Lydia didn't look to him for answers. She didn't want his justification. All she could process was how Michael shook against her the moment their father became present, and hugged him tighter, trying to create a barrier between them.

Nobody moved, or said another word. She realized with slowing ease that Mr. Archibold had left the room when she heard his footsteps clicking through the hall and ebbing away. He was far from done with her. Being that he knew she'd gone to that club in Bellbridge, there was a still of bundle of Hell waiting to be unleashed. But not right now, and for that time only, that's all that mattered.

Now that it was just the two of them, a million of questions sprang from Lydia like stars out her ears. She didn't directly ask her sibling any of them, but she wondered them to herself with great sincerity. Why had Michael been caught holding a wine bottle? Was he instructed to bring it to their father? Was he getting it for himself? Would this not have happened if Lydia had been there and not with her friends? Did it happen because her father found out the truth, and he was the closest thing to take it out on?

She pressed her mouth into Michael's neck. Not a kiss, but more an affectionate reassurance. Whether or not it had been his fault, even if he had just been being stupid, or a twelve year old, or both simultaneously, he was not deserving of this treatment. She had to make that clear. The only way she could was wordlessly, and even then it wasn't enough to reassure him nor herself.

Lydia finally pulled away and held her brother's face with motherly tenderness, studying it carefully. No cuts, no unhealthy discoloration anywhere else save for the black eye. It was a deep, rich velvet color and had a disturbing luster to it. She decided to make herself busy for a split second, just so she could look away and console herself. Her reason found itself at the door. She crossed the room to shut it, to break them away from the rest of the house.

When the door had closed, Lydia took another long breath and stared ahead at the empty white paint before turning once again.

Reala was waiting near her brother, wearing a blatantly stoic expression.

"I know exactly what you're thinking. If you believe waiting here with this half pint is going to save you from me, then you're terribly wrong," Reala said with what could've been mistaken as boredom. He'd given up trying to intimidate her. It was just too easy. He decided he didn't even need to try. But he was angry. That part never went away.

Lydia locked eyes with him and found herself backing into the door again. Her chest heaved dramatically and she shook her head once; twice. Michael noticed this and raised his eyes weakly.

"Sis? What's wrong?"

Lydia didn't answer. Her mouth hung open as she walked back towards him, not looking away from the Nightmaren. She just couldn't tear herself away now. Reala placed his hands on his hips, his glare now sliding over to the boy. He noticed how banged up part of his face was and snickered. "Boy, seems to me like someone didn't follow proper orders," he noted. "I didn't think that this sort of thing was administered in this dimension as well. Sometimes my Master outright killed those who defied him. This one got off easy."

Now Michael had turned to look at Reala. He didn't see anything or hear anyone. He was simply confused as to why his sister was so heavily fixated on the spot where he resided. Reala noticed him staring, even if it was blankly, and examined the wound on his eye. It stood out so much against his pale skin. The Nightmaren reached forward and pricked the surface, only for his ghostly finger to stab straight through the child's face.

Lydia's expression twisted with rage. She jumped forward and collided with Michael, hugging him as if to protect him again. She was lucky Reala had moved his hand away in time, otherwise it would've become embedded in the kid's brain.

"I'm sorry, Michael," was all she could say. It sounded rushed and breathless. She made sure whatever she said drilled into the Nightmaren as well. "I'll stay here with you today. All day. I won't leave you. I wouldn't dare."

She didn't look back at Reala, but she could feel him looking at her. "Oh really now? Is that your plan?" he asked her.

"I promise," Lydia answered hurriedly to both of them.

Michael, much like Evangeline, didn't realize she was talking to two people at once, and nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Lydia." His voice broke a little.

Reala scoffed at how totally obnoxious they both were. Holding onto each other so dearly, and with so much love. He was genuinely surprised that Lydia had never been to Nightopia. She was someone that NiGHTS would've channeled through perfectly. It made him sick.

But, there was a point worth addressing. He really had nothing that he could do here during the day while she was awake. Sure, experimentation might have been of some use. He could have maybe forcefully put her back to sleep himself. The sink idea was beginning to sound better and better.

But all of these different choices bore too much risk. He'd have to wait a bit longer, for her to naturally drift back to sleep. He knew where to find her, at least.

Reala loomed over the two of them crookedly, hanging his head low so that his charcoal lip brushed past Lydia's ear and made the back of her neck tingle.

"Don't think this is over. I'll be back when you've fallen asleep."

She felt his breath swirling through to her head and flinched away. But she didn't argue what he said. She couldn't, even if she found the right words to say. There was no way to escape Reala. He'd see to that.

So without any final retorts from either party, Reala shot out of the room and left the two Archibold siblings to wallow in their own misery, much like they did most of the time in the privacy of their own home. Unbeknownst to anyone.

Unbeknownst to everyone.

**(x)**

**(x)**

**(x)**

**You'll probably notice the sickening pattern here. Two chapters have taken place. Roughly ten thousand words in total. HARDLY ANY TIME AS PASSED AT ALL. AND THIS ALL TOOK PLACE IN THE HUMAN WORLD.**

**But I wouldn't say that means that there isn't much progression. I think this chapter in particular is very vital to the story and sort of an introduction to the kind of struggles the protagonist faces behind the scenes. Some would call this dragging the story out, since I like to highlight things that might not be that important to certain readers. But that's just the kind of storyteller I am. Maybe one day I'll write something with a much faster pace. But this just seems like how it should be. I have quite a bit of story left to tell. There's so much I want to share. I hope it's still enjoyable. Feel free to leave a review and tell me how you feel!**


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